In The Ashes
by beautiful innuendo
Summary: After Harry's death, Hermione takes the war in her own hands. A story of shame, forgiveness and renewal, love against all odds and a ragtag bunch of nearly-defeated wizards. HGSS
1. Chapter 1

Night had fallen early on New Mills. The high, winter moon silhouetted the finger-like mill chimneys and lit the way for Hermione to steal past the sleeping homes. The cobbled streets were slick with a fine sheet of ice, making purchase difficult for her worn out boots. Spinner's End was her destination, but not for the man who resided there. His Godson was there- it was Hermione's duty to get him to safety. He was too important, she was told.

A single candle lit the front window of the house on the end of the street. The wind's gusting was so severe when Hermione made it to the worn door, she was so cold that hesitation was no longer an option. Tracing a complex series of runes on the door, the fear that she should have felt long ago sunk in. With a soft click, the door opened a fraction letting the soft light spill onto Hermione's auburn curls.

A face shrouded in the shadows emerged, "What year did you hit me?"

"Fourth."

The door opened a fraction wider; she slipped inside, her scarlet cloak catching on the frame for a moment.

When she turned and brushed the hair from her eyes, he was livid. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Bringing news," she replied, trying frantically to catch her breath. "Harry dead," she gulped. "Remus. Shacklebolt. McGonagall, too."

Draco turned away from her, lacking his characteristic smirk and looking suddenly vulnerable in his white cambric shirt. The shirt looked strange on him, and it took Hermione a moment to realize that he was wearing Snape's clothing.

A shaking hand poured a splash of amber liquid, unidentifiable, but alchoholic, into a ceramic mug. He downed it without coughing and sloshed more into the same mug, thrusting it at Hermione. She sipped, felt the burn of whiskey, then swallowed deeply.

"The Dark Lord?" he asked quietly, almost too quiet for Hermione to hear.

She grimaced. "Alive."

"And your instructions for me?"

Hermione poured another once, drank it. "I'm to tell you your options."

"From the Boy-King?" he sneered.

"Harry is dead." She slumped into one of the dark brown velvet armchairs by the smoldering fire. "You can go back to Voldemort. I can cut off your arm and we flee. Severus is waiting for us in France. I have a duty to de-activate his mark. Either way, I must go."

Draco paced up the length of the room, stopping every moment or so to consider and promptly switch directions, the floorboards protesting under his stockinged feet.

Hermione checked her watch, shook it at her ear and wound it. "Malfoy," she began.

The usual billow was again gone, but the menace in his eyes was the same: cold and dark. "Granger," he snarled.

"I need to know your answer," she prodded, the alcohol giving her liquid courage. Suddenly, the mug came flying from his hand, shattering on the floor by her feet.

"What made you think that I had to make up my mind, you silly brat?"

Hermione was out of her chair in an instant. "You want the arm, then?" she spat back.

"Of course I want the arm." He wiped his shirtsleeve viciously across his mouth, as if to clean it.

Hermione considered. "How long do you have when _he _calls to answer it?"

"A few hours," Draco replied. "Five at most."

She nodded, glancing around the cramped room at Spinner's End- Snape's home. Books over-flowed the shelves, leaking to the end tables and the library table in the corner. They were stacked on the fireplace and there was a shelf hanging from the back of the door into the next room. The kitchen, she presumed.

Glancing at the perspiration dancing across his forehead she asked, "And you've been called?"

"Not but twenty minutes ago."

Nodding again, she began to pace on the space adjacent to him. "We have to move quickly. Pack only what you need."

He glared, as if to say, 'do you think I don't already know that?', but he complied, pulling out his wand from a wrist sheath, he slashed it around the room in a wide arc. The books responded first, shrinking to the size of a finger-nail and neatly stacking themselves on the floor in front of the entry door. He moved quickly to the library table and pulled out a large mahogany humidor, which he thrust at Hermione.

"Don't just stand there."

She complied, scooping the books into the box with both hands- an act that if this had been any other moment she would have nearly vomited with indignation. Hearing his feet go up the seemingly narrow stairs, Hermione cast the _tempus._

7:40.

They'd better hurry.

Finishing her duty to the books, Hermione rummaged through the desk until she found a large rubber band, which she snapped over the box to keep it closed. Laying the humidor, obviously to keep his books at appropriate levels of humidity, on her cloak, which was on the back of the sofa, she ventured to the foot of the stairs.

"Do you need assistance?" she called up, hoping for a negative response. She received a positive one, though, and made her way up the stairs, which were very steep and had walls on both sides, almost making it impossible for the petite Hermione to walk facing forward. Surely a man like Draco, although his frame was spare, would have to nearly go down the steps sideways.

The door to Hermione's right was ajar, showing what appeared to be Snape's lab. "You can't take ingredients," she blurted.

His look asked her why-the-fuck-not?

"We've a plane to catch. I'm not comfortable with apparation or the floo network in the current circumstances."

The look continued.

"The security men look through your bags when you get on the plane. The shrunken books are strange enough."

He scowled and charmed his best platinum number two cauldron into a standard kitchen pot and shrunk it to the size of a child's toy. Hermione beamed. "Perfect. A present for your niece."

"If you're done," Draco said softly, "you had best make your way into the wardrobe and get his clothing packed. I don't have any but his right now. A case is on the bed."

She did as she was told, nearly forgetting that she was going to go into Professor Snape's bedroom. She opened the other door on the landing, this one straight across from the stairs. Snape's bed was yet unmade, but the room was tidy and spartan otherwise. Had Draco slept here or in the sitting room? A worn brown and red rug covered the hardwood floors and the bed took up nearly all of the room. The wardrobe was in the corner, opposite the only window. She opened the dark colored roller-board suitcase and was then met with the scent of him- parchment and ink, cloves, balsam and a hint of whiskey, when she flung open the doors of the wardrobe.

Without giving too much a thought to what she was actually touching, she pulled down three jackets, each similar but different, and four pairs of trousers- two black wool, grey twill and a worn pair of denims, which made Hermione smile strangely. In the drawers under the hanging space, she selected several shirts, all of them which buttoned up. She had never seen him in anything other than teaching robes or death eater garb. This was a whole new side of Snape. Remembering that these clothes were for Draco, she chose four- one each in white, burgundy, navy and hunter. Pulling out more drawers, she took three pairs each of heavy wool and thin trouser socks, all in black. Five undershirts, with a deep vee neck in a utilitarian white. Five pairs of dark-colored boxer-briefs.

Hermione Granger had touched Professor Snape's underpants. She giggled in spite of the situation.

She folded them quickly, but carefully and placed them to the left in the suitcase. Dropping her own beaded handbag on the rumpled ecru sheets, Hermione extracted her clothing and folded it next to Snape's, or Draco's- a pair of black trousers, a pair of denims, three sweaters, a black turtleneck, several sets of underwear and a pair of lace-up boots.

"Malfoy?" Hermione called.

He came to the door, a pink gift bag with yellow tissue poking out the top in his hand.

"His lab is packed and ready for gifting to my niece," he scowled.

Hermione dug into her beaded bag again, this time withdrawing two burgundy Republique Francaise passports. She handed him one, "For you, Jean-Etienne de Rambouillet."

He glanced at his picture, next to the prissy name. "And you are?"

"Simone de Rambouillet. Your wife."

"We're married?" he seethed.

Hermione glared. "You have a better idea?"

Spinning on her heel, she zipped the rollerboard shut and pulled it off the bed. It made an awful racket hitting the floor and she stormed out of the room. The case thundered down the narrow stairs as she dragged it.

Draco was left alone in his bedroom with only the paper gift-bag in his hand.

When Malfoy came down the stairs into the sitting room again, he found Hermione putting the final touches on a pair of winter coats. His warm, weather-proofed travelling cloak was now reduced to a mere muggle overcoat. He nearly snarled at Hermione, but she thrust the new coat at him so forcefully that he was stunned into subservience. He put it on. It fit perfectly, he noted, with a single row of large black buttons leading down from a collar at his throat to just above his knees. He looked up as Hermione swirled a black princess-cut wool trench around her shoulders. It flared out around her calves prettily and tied belted snugly at her waist.

"Ready?" she asked, opening the door without waiting to hear his response. He blindly followed her down the street, turning right down an alley and right again onto Woolstead Place. Hermione's hand fumbled around in her beaded bag for a moment and then came back out with a battered-looking set of car keys.

"In," she commanded once she had jabbed the key into the door lock and clicked them open. Draco thought it was possibly the ugliest car he had ever seen.

He sat down, the shoulder restraint coming across his chest when he shut the door. "What is this monstrosity?"

"Ford Scorpio. The most average, under-the-radar car I could ask for," she said, turning the key over and turning on the heaters.

Malfoy ran his finger over the HelloKitty rear-view ornament. "You own this?"

Hermione snorted, throwing the car into reverse and backing out the one-way street. "No. Stole it from a few miles away in Hammersmith."

The radio clicked a few times, sputtered and died. Hermione smashed her fist into the front plate. It began spewing BBC World Radio again. "Does that sometimes."

Draco hummed. Hermione turned sharply onto the M4, her knuckles white on the wheel. Only moments later, thanks to her hundred and fifty-five kilometers an hour driving, Hermione and Malfoy pulled up to the end of the sidewalk at Terminal Four at Heathrow airport. Glancing around, she manuevered into a loading dock behind a low wall, parked and shut off the car.

"Right, Jean-Etienne. Out," she said, jerking open the back door and pulling out their suitcase.

Hermione tossed the keys onto the boot of the car and turned around, purpousfully striding towards the doors. She looked back for a moment, stopped.

"Stay still," she commanded, brandishing her wand. He felt a strange tickling on his scalp. "Brunette suits you, Draco."

"You what?" He seethed.

"You take the tickets," she said, ignoring him and opening the wide glass door "And remember, we're French."

Draco caught a look of himself in the glass. Brunette was not bad. He shook his hair out of the que at the nape of his neck and let it rest around his shoulders, obscuring his features.

"Better," Hermione commented, twisting her hair into a bun and pulling a cap over it. She approached the security guard first. "Bon Soir," she san out.

"Madame," the gentleman answered. "Passports?"

Hermione handed them over. "You're headed back home?" the security man asked.

She gave him a confused look. He repeated in French, "Allez-vous chez vous?"

Smiling enchantingly she replied, "Oui."

"Bon voyage," he said, handing the little booklets back to Hermione. Draco looked at her blankly.

"Bags on the conveyor," she muttered forcefully, dropping hers onto the belt. "Take off your shoes."

Draco slipped his off, laying them next to her's. They stepped in turn through a portal which mercifully did not emit a sound.

"Merci," Hermione muttered to the gate worker. "This way, Draco."

She led him down the crowded, long hall. They were very nearly about to miss their flight.

"Madame!" she shouted as a flight attendant was about to shut the flight door. "Madame, Nous sommes sur ce vol!"

"Oui, Madame. Rapide, s'il vous plait."

She checked their passports and tickets only cursorally, "Bon vol, Madame, Monsieur."

"Merci," Draco said as he walked past her and down the ramp leading to the plane.

Hermione checked the numbers as they walked down the aisle. She slid the suitcase into the overhead compartment and took the window seat.

"What are we doing?" whispered Draco furiously.

Hermione glared and took out the in-flight magazine. "We're flying."

"In this?" he inquired.

"Yes. Now leave me alone, I have to make a call," she snapped.

Draco looked around the metal tube that he was supposed to be flying in as Hermione pulled out a mobile phone and punched in a number.

"Onyx?" she asked. After a moment she sighed and then replied. "I have the opals you asked for." a breath. "Oui. En route now. Flight 427, Heathrow to CDG." a single choked breath. "Yeah," she said, endeavoring to sound nonchalant. "The emeralds aren't any good to us anymore. Those and the Rubies got messed up at the lab. Topaz and the Tanzanite got left behind. The pair of Beryls are all-right and the other seven Beryls are fine too."

Looking at her looking out the window and barely able to hold tears back made Draco look away in shame.

"I'll be there soon. Too bad the Bloodstone made it so I couldn't get more out," she replied softly. "Must go. We're about to take off."

She clicked it shut and let her eyes squeeze shut.

"Granger?" Draco asked.

She opened them, luminescent tears glinting on their sufaces. "Yes?"

"All those gemstones mean people, right?"

"Yes."

"And I'm an opal?" he pressed.

Hermione nodded her head and turned to look out the window again.

"Why?"

Sighing tiredly she replied, "Why do you want to know?"

"Well, Snape is onyx, yeah, which makes sense because he's got black hair," he continued. "And Shacklebolt is Tanzanite because he's African. Why am I opal?"

"Because they're pretty and shiny and at the end completely breakable," she spat at him and closed her eyes.

The lights dimmed. They were running.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't long that they were in the air again when Draco started peppering Hermione with questions again. Hermione knew, consciously, that Draco had been at Spinner's End with no company but himself for the past two and a half months, but in her heart she argued that her best friend had just been killed and the war that she had spent her entire life fighting was coming to an end and she was loosing.

"Who are the other gemstones?" he whispered.

She didn't look from the window. "Why does it matter?"

"I don't think," he began, toying with the edges of his drink napkin, "that you called me opal because I'm easy to crush. I think it just has to do with colors and things associated with the person. Ruby is McGonagall- she's been head of Gryffindor for about a hundred years, right?"

Hermione turned her head towards him, the exhaustion clearly written on her face. "You're not going to let me think about what's happened, are you?"

Draco almost smiled, looked down at his hands. "Not yet. We don't have time for you to think yet."

"We're going to have a long night, Malfoy," she replied. "There's so much to do. We've already lost more than two hours since your mark began burning."

"What's going to happen?" blanched Draco, "I mean, you're going to have to cut my arm off."

Hermione took the cap off her head and shook out her hair. "You want the whole plan?"

"We have another forty minutes till we land."

"Right," she said. "Well, Severus and I have been corresponding about the effects of the marks and how to stop them. We tried the draught of the living dead, and that stalled him for a time, but of course, the person was essentially dead. Finally, it was decided that the person possessing the mark needed a full blood transfusion after the mark was removed. I believe we will only have to take the skin to the fat layer to get rid of the leeching of the mark. He thinks we're going to have to amputate at the elbow. In general, though, I'm the one that will have to do it, so what I say goes."

Draco was looking quite pale by this point at Hermione's bald terms and cool delivery. "I think I would have rather talked about your code names."

"I'll be applying numbing salve and then nerve deadening charms. There will also be a tourniquet so that there isn't too much blood."

"And the transfusion?" he gulped.

"We'll be at the Saint-Antoine University Hospital. I'll be casting the high-level repulsion charms on the operating room while you and Severus steal the blood," she explained. "What blood-type are you anyway?"

"What?" asked Draco.

Hermione sighed. "We'll just use O negative on you."

"I'm a pureblood. That's my blood type."

"It doesn't work that way, Draco." Hermione explained. "Blood comes in different types, A, AB, B, and O."

"I'd rather you tell me about the code names."

Hermione looked ready to punch Malfoy but nodded her head for him to go on.

"Does my father have a code name?"

Hermione traced the weave of the grey fabric on the seat in front of her. "He and your mother are the Moonstones. We allude to male or female in conversation such as, 'the heart-shaped moonstone should be put with the sapphires' or the 'dark moonstone is in a necklace with the bloodstone.' See?"

"Who's the sapphire?"

"Ron. The pair of Beryls and the other seven beryls are the Weasley family. Ginny is a garnet, too, and Ron a sapphire. Mrs. Weasley is sometimes Morganite."

"And Topaz is the werewolf?"

Hermione snapped, "Don't call him that you dim-witted cretin! You're half the man that Remus Lupin was."

"Don't loose it here, Granger. Tell me who Snape is."

"Onyx, remember?"

"Longbottom?"

"Jade."

"Lovegood?"

"Amethyst."

"Mad-Eye?"

"Cat's Eye." The first three were done in rapid succession, only pausing for Draco to think of another name. Hermione fired back immediately, knowing their code to the very depths of her memory.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Citrine."

"Bill?"

"Carnelian. Prized Egyptian stone."

"Charlie?"

"Cinnabar. Also known as Dragon's Blood."

"Fred and George?"

"Fool's Gold."

"Tonks?"

"Alexandrite. It's a color-changing stone."

"You?" Draco asked gently.

Hermione bit back a sob. "Don't ask me."

He prodded as the lights came up in the cabin. "I'll find out soon enough. You ought to tell me or there will be nothing to keep my mind off of this lead balloon coming out of the sky."

She steeled her frame and buckled her lap belt again. The lights of Paris were coming up fast outside the little oval window. "Pearl."

"Why? I would have called you Diamond."

Hermione glared at Draco. "No one is Diamond."

"You're the hardest thing on the planet. You have to be Diamond."

"You'd better watch that I don't cut you." She laid her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes again.

The plane was early, bouncing across the tarmac at half-past nine. People started standing in the aisles and Hermione pushed Malfoy up, urging him to grab their bag quickly.

"Veuillez, je m'excuse," Hermione called then switched to an accented English. "We have a connection that we are late for!"

Quickly the passengers in the few rows ahead of them parted for the beautiful but harried French couple.

Time was of the essence; they definitely did not have time for Customs. Hermione and Draco nearly bounded off the gate bridge and ducked into an unused terminal waiting area.

"You're not to use magic, all right? You could be tracked." Hermione explained while disillusioning their bags.

"What about you?" Draco asked as the cool egg-break on the head feeling took over his body and he was disillusioned.

Hermione tapped herself and she shimmered out of sight. "I've a new wand," she explained, taking Draco by the hand. "It doesn't work as well as my old one, but it's black market and untraceable."

Quietly they snuck under the line dividers and past the watchful eyes of the customs agents. Soon they were free and in the baggage claim, looking around for a familiar tall, dark man. They waited by a wall until all other passengers had gone by before Hermione took the enchantment off of them. Moments later, as if he had been summoned by the ending of their enchantment, Severus Snape came into view.

"There's not time for hellos now," he said, taking Draco into his arms for a fast embrace. "We have to go. Miss Granger, if you would?"

Moments later, the three were invisible once more and going through the revolving doors to the pick up area.

"I assume you've already ditched the car that brought you here?" Hermione asked.

"Took the Metro," he replied and pointed. "That one will do."

The vehicle in question was an older Citroen Deaux Cheveaux with the boot popped and wide open after the older man pulled out his daughter's bag. The passenger and driver's door were still open and the vehicle was idling. Hermione grabbed the suitcase from Draco and a moment later the two heard the thump of an invisible bag hitting the floor of the boot.

"On three," they heard Hermione say. Once she knocked on the roof of the car. Twice. On the third she slammed the boot closed and shut the driver's side door moments after. Severus pushed Draco through the middle of the two front seats and shut the door. Hermione was tearing out of the airport before Draco was even in the back, his feet flailing around Hermione's head.

It must have been strange to see a car stealing itself, Hermione mused. But for the moment she didn't care. Again driving a speed that far exceeded the limits, the little car zoomed down the E19 towards Paris. They exited on a side road, an N road, and turned left on the rue de Stalingrad. Pulling up to the large limestone building, Hermione again ducked the car behind a large rubbish bin.

"Out," she said. "Stay disillusioned."

The night was much colder in France than in London, with small crystals floating down from the sky. With a start, Hermione realized that it was Christmas Eve. The automatic doors did not recognize them, but they did not have to wait for long. The blaring horn of an ambulance pulled up under the portico and someone on a gurney was rushed inside. It was only natural that Hermione, Malfoy and Snape would follow them towards the operating rooms.

They ran down fluorescent -lit halls, their footsteps lost behind the jargon the paramedics were using. After a sharp right turn, Snape grabbed for Hermione and Draco.

"Blood storage," he whispered, tugging their jackets to the left. "Go on, Hermione."

"I'll be in the first empty operating room I find. I won't cast the revulsions until you're there," she said, glancing right and left. "And give Draco O negative blood."

"Fine," he responded. "The lock."

Hermione cast the alohamora on the electronic lock. It lit up green and clicked. They open and closed it, almost as though done by ghosts. She ran again, this time through large double doors, following the sounds of trauma. She found two doctors putting on gloves, hairnets and masks and knew she was on the right track. There it was. Hermione gently pushed open the doors to the first available room. It was dark, but light enough to read until the other two got back with the blood.

Moving quickly, Hermione set up the operating table, wide enough, thankfully, for two thin people to lay head to foot. Two IV carts were brought, one to each end of the table and she rummaged around in the closet for fluid bags. She expected they would need them. Large gauze pads were laid out on a crash cart, along with the electrocautery instrument, which looked like a knitting needle with a handle. She set them up quickly, merely plugging the electrocautery in and starting up the batteries for the fluid pumps. Needles and tape were found fairly quickly and rested by the gauze.

"Here," Draco said, pulling two bags of blood out of his shirt, apparently, as they inched into view at waist height. She sat them on the table and quickly started her wand-work. Muggle repellent charms, notice-me-not charms, silencing charms, a muffliato, three different lighting charms and two finite incantatums for Draco and Snape.

"Time?" she barked at Snape.

"Ten oh five," he answered, starting to unbutton his shirt. "Draco, you should go first. I've not been called. Yet."

Malfoy went white, but simply removed his jacket and shirt.

"Head to foot on the table, please," said Hermione in a gentler voice. The men complied. She dug around in her bottomless beaded bag again and procured a large tub of mint-blue salve. "Professor, please apply the numbing salve to your marks and to the opposite forearm and hand."

Draco was numb first. "Have you done this before?"

"No," she replied. "But I'm a fast learner and I've read everything that there is to read about it and masked myself as a nurse for a whole day and learned about needles."

"Look away, Draco," said Snape to his Godson. The tourniquet was applied to his right bicep. A strange pressure and then a release happened to his hand. He looked again. Granger had stuck a needle into his hand and was taping it down.

"What the hell is that?" Draco asked.

Hermione turned the switch to release the fluids from the bag. "It's an IV. Don't ask me about it. You need fluids while I do the mark work."

She repeated the action on Snape, but he was unflinching and looked at Hermione's forehead through the entire procedure.

"We're going to wait until that bag is half-done before I do...that," she explained. Two more carts, these more elaborate than the IV drips were brought over. "Another needle, this one for the transfusion." The process was repeated again, this time on the men's forearms.

They waited, the cool fluid trickling into their veins. At half past ten, Hermione sighed. "Ready, yeah?"

Draco nodded.

"I would close your eyes." she said as she lifted his left arm, careful not to touch the mark burning and writhing black on his skin, and placed it in a cool, shallow metal pan.

The whirring of the electrocautery frightened all three and Draco grasped for his Godfather's hand. He held tight to it as the heat intensified over his skin and the smell reached his nose. After only a moment, all he knew was black.

There was so little blood, Hermione thought as she drug the tool the rest of the way across his lurid tattoo, just the eyes visible now. The charred skin and muscle dropped limply into the pan and then suddenly, she was done.

Draco's arm was marred devastatingly, but it looked like the mark was gone. The site was large, and raw in parts with burnt edges in others. It was so grotesque as to be fake-looking.

"There is a nausea potion in my coat pocket, Miss Granger," Snape mentioned quietly. She went to his coat, found the comforting honey colored liquid and drank it swiftly.

"I must start his transfusion now," she replied in thanks. Opening the tap of the needle, Hermione watched the flow from Draco's vein pulse out red blood into the bag.

There was probably ten minutes until Draco needed a fresh receiving bag. Hermione considered Professor Snape. He looked so different, she thought. His hair was cut close to his head and his aquiline nose, which Hermione always thought made him look distinctive, had been fixed- a deviated septum, probably, and now looked far more average. He was wearing muggle clothes: dark colored denims and black leather boots.

"Go on," he whispered. So she did, repeating the procedure a second time. His eyes remained open and fixed at a point above Hermione's head, never wavering. He could not feel the pain, but the knowledge of what was happening to him was almost too much to handle for the strongest of men. It was done in only minutes and Hermione opened the valve and let his blood spill out of his body and through a tube.

Draco was ready for a fresh bag. She changed it and cast several spells over him to monitor his heartbeat and blood pressure. He was dangerously low, she thought, and closed the valve to let his blood out. She brought another bag of fluids to him and hooked them up at a fast drip. Five minutes later his pressure was up farther and he was coming out of his faint.

"Don't move," she said gently, touching his hand. "You're all right. The mark is gone."

He moaned. "Severus?"

"I'm quite all right," the man himself answered, less convincing than he thought. Draco closed his eyes again, this time still conscious.

Hermione checked the Professor's pulse and pressure. It was in a normal range, considering. She replaced his receiving bag, placing the filled liter with Draco's. Re-opening Malfoy's exit line, she brought the antibacterial cream to bandage his arm. After filling the wound with the cream, she wrapped gauze around the burn, winding three times and sealing with tape. An antibiotic shot was administered to his numb shoulder muscles.

"How does the calling feel?" Hermione asked Malfoy.

He considered and then replied weakly, "I don't feel it as much. It's more of a mild compulsion than a pulling sensation."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "I think the rest will be taken care of with the transfusion."

She felt the world start to crash in on her: the reality of what she had just done, Harry's death, Voldemort's victory. Startled out by a touch of Snape's hand on hers, she began her job again, piling ointment into the wound and wrapping it.

Draco's second bag was nearly full, and he was beginning to look worse for the wear, pale and clammy. Hermione pulled the second full bag off and hung the fresh blood. The human body could lose two and a quarter liters of blood; Draco was just under that. He was thin, so that could be a detriment. She opened his fluid line to full capacity and began to reverse the flow of his transfusion catheter. The first bag emptied quickly while she set to work on Snape's- a B positive transfusion.

And so it continued, letting two crimson bags empty into their veins followed by two bags filling again, seventeen percent of their blood being replaced every cycle. Each full cycle took shorter and shorter, it seemed, as the blood flowed faster and faster. Six bags full of their blood were banished, six new, healthy bags were introduced. Hermione took the last bags off the hangers at one forty five and started another round of fluid.

2am found Hermione Granger asleep on the floor of a French Operating room.


	3. Chapter 3

A short, shrill buzz brought Hermione out of her sleep, leaving her disoriented and sweaty. Only an hour had passed since she had set the bags of fluid to drip into the men's veins, but they were looking better already. She eased herself off of the ground and gently touched Draco's shoulder, gaging his wakefulness.

"Granger," he murmured, opening one eye.

"How does it feel?" questioned Hermione. She cast the heart rate and blood pressure charms and breathed a thankful breath.

As she repeated the procedure on the sleeping Professor, Draco answered. "It doesn't hurt, just kind of aches. And the calling has stopped. I don't know if he quit or if it worked, but my money is on your procedure."

"Good," she whispered. "I'll get some potions for you."

She opened her beaded bag and delved in, this time bringing up a large yellow tackle box. Opening it, she rooted around in the bottom for a moment before bringing up a large vial of mauve liquid- a burn-healing elixir that worked from the inside out, a pale orange pain potion and a pinkish-red pepper-up invigoration draught.

Repeating the same procedure on her professor, she gently tipped half of each potion past his parched lips. Draco complied with the same.

"Let me take your IVs out and we'll be on our way," said Hermione, mostly to herself. She busied herself banishing the used equipment and helping Draco and Snape to sit up before she took out another pepper-up and drank it herself.

Snape rubbed his face with both hands. "Hello, Draco."

"Severus," he replied, his face breaking into a smile.

They stared at each other again, "You've left my home in one piece?"

"That I have. I did get a splinter on your stairs, though."

Hermione coughed. "Gentlemen. As much as I want to continue this, we need sleep. We have a rendezvous with the Spanish magical government at noon tomorrow."

"Flying?" Snape asked.

"Yes," she replied. "I have new passports for us all."

Draco and the Professor gingerly pulled on their shirts and coats, Severus winding a long grey scarf around his neck. Hermione continued. "Ready for disillusionment? We'll go to the car park, find a car and find a hotel."

"Metro runs just by here," Snape pointed out. "We can take it to the airport and find a hotel."

Hermione shook her head. "No. I can take it to the airport to find a hotel and then come back to get you. You two are recovering from a full blood transfusion and third degree burns."

They began to protest. "Fine, then. We steal another car, making it my fifth instance of grand theft auto today and I drive until I find an inn to receive us at four in the morning."

"Maybe the Citroen is still there," Draco mused. In answer, Hermione whacked her unfamiliar wand down on his head a little harder than strictly necessary. He was disillusioned and his Godfather after him, an expression of conciliation on his face.

They left the OR and made their way back to the lobby again and out the doors. It was Christmas, Hermione mused again. She wondered if either men had any idea.

The Citroen was indeed where they had left it, and Hermione started it up again. Draco climbed into the back seat more sedately this time and they drove back to Charles de Gaulle a bit more slowly than four hours before. Ten silent minutes later, they pulled into an ubiquitous Holiday Inn, retrieved their bags and quietly disillusioned themselves.

"Pardon, Monsieur, vous avez une chambre disponible jusqu'à notre prochain vol dans la matinée?" Hermione asked breathlessly. They did and Hermione handed over a Belgian passport under the name of Sophie Renauld and a Gringott's card with the same name.

As he ran the card, Hermione remembered the men and women who had funded that vault- the emergency flight vault. Harry, first and foremost, Sirius and Narcissa Malfoy. Draco had even given some.

It cleared and the man gave a bleary Hermione the key, explaining that the room was on the third floor.

"Je vous souhaite un joyeux Noël," he called as the lift doors closed.

Draco looked confusedly at Hermione, "You didn't tell me it was Christmas."

"Why would I have? It's not like it matters," she snapped, jerking the suitcase over the threshold. Harry died on Christmas Eve.

She jabbed the key into the lock and pushed open the door. "I'll take the floor," she said, glancing at the two narrow beds.

"I would take the chair, Miss Granger," Snape said from the doorway, unlacing his boots and pulling his feet out. "I shall not sleep anyway."

"As you like," replied Hermione, stripping off her trousers and shoes. She cared very little that they saw her scrawny legs and barely covered arse. Draco looked politely away, but Hermione met Snape's eyes over the edge of the bed. "Thank you."

She was asleep before she was fully supine. Draco settled into the second bed and drifted off while Severus, with Hermione's stolen wand in his hand, sat sentinel.

Four hours later, Hermione woke from her heavy, dreamless slumber more refreshed than she had expected. The smell of brewing coffee effused the room, which she could see in the daylight to be papered in a hideous teal and pink floral pattern. The shower was running and Snape's chair was vacant. Hermione changed her underwear and trousers before waking Draco.

"Would you like coffee?" she asked. He said that he would, with cream and sugar, and Hermione set about making it.

"You know, we should do something about your hair, Granger," mused Draco.

"And what is wrong with my hair?" she snapped back, thrusting the cup at him as he had done with her the night before.

"Too recognizable," said Snape from the doorway. He was neatly dressed already in similar denims and a soft dark sweater.

She stared in the mirror for a moment. "I suppose you're right," she said, meeting Snape's eyes in the mirror. "Would you do the honors? I've scissors in my bag."

Draco snorted. "What don't you have in your bag?"

Hermione glared and sat down on the bed, handing Snape a rubber band and the scissors. He gently pulled her hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, his strong hands holding her scalp taut.

Snape hesitated. "Just do it," replied Hermione, looking at herself and Snape in the mirror across from the bed, Snape on his knees above and behind her. He looked down and severed Hermione's nearly waist length hair in three cuts. She closed her eyes.

Hermione concentrated on the feel of Snape's fingers in her hair, gently lifting and snipping individual curls at a time. He ran his fingers through her crop a few times to ensure evenness and pronounced her finished by nudging her on the shoulder.

She looked only for a split moment, said it wasn't half bad and pulled her coat on. "The plane leaves in an hour and a half. We need to get to the airport."

"Granger, we're supposed to look respectable," Draco said, taking her bag from her and rummaging. He pulled out a tube of hand lotion.

Hermione looked incredulously at him, "What are you going to do with that?"

Popping open the lid, he answered as he squirted a dob into his hands. "Lotion. Perfect hair product when in a pinch."

She was quiet as he ran his hands over her curls, gently coaxing them into place. He nodded. "Better."

Snape was staring at her strangely, she noticed. "What is it?"

"You should change the color," Snape replied. "Blonder, I think."

She put down the bags and walked back from the door. "Well, fine." A swish and a flick later she was a neutral dishwater blond.

Not looking at the product, she instead pulled two vials of pain-relieving potion out of her coat and handed one to both of the men. "Take them in about an hour. You'll know when- it'll hurt. Bad."

"Am I still Jean-Ehwhateve?" Draco asked, pocketing the potion.

Hermione snapped her fingers and got into the beaded bag, retrieving three new Spanish passports. "Give me your old one."

She banished it and handed over the others after glancing at the pictures, "Professor, you're Hugo Salazar, Draco, you're Alexander Delgado, I'm Lucia Delgado. Sister this time, Draco."

Opening the door, she pulled the bag through and down the hall before Draco and Snape could look twice. They went after her as quickly as was dignified.

"Has she been like this since she got to you?" Draco asked Severus as they waited for the next elevator.

Snape nodded, punching the down button. "Her best friend is dead."

"We've lost the war, Severus," Draco said matter-of-factly.

"In England," countered Snape.

Draco chuckled in spite of himself. "Why do you think we're running?"

"To re-group. I don't want to hear this, Draco. Not now," he jabbed at the button more fiercely this time. The door dinged open and they entered, the pink gift bag with rumpled yellow tissue paper thudding against Draco's leg. Thrusting his foot in front of the closing doors, Severus turned to gaze at Draco with a sharp glint in his eyes. "She just forgave our mistakes, Draco. We're not Death Eaters any longer. Don't dare mention anything about 'losing' to her."

He let them close.

When they entered the lobby, Hermione had already gone outside and was shoving their bag into the back seat of a white courtesy van.

"On we go," she said, throwing a false beam of sunshine across their faces. She took the front seat with the mustachioed driver and Draco and Snape got in the first bench seat. "Terminus trois, s'il vous plait."

Draco was strangely quiet, but Hermione had taken it to mean that he had all the talking out of his system. Severus had taken out a worn paperback, its title obscured from Hermione's angle, and was staring at the page, flipping them at seemingly random intervals.

Hermione, of course, hurried them through check-in, Draco being more familiar with the conveyors this time helped. They locate their gate with few problems, after which Draco went in search of a bathroom and Severus for a coffee. Hermione closed her eyes and without thinking went to sweep her hair into a ponytail. It was not there. She found the nearest window and looked at her reflection for a moment- unable to find herself in the gaunt, blonde woman looking at her. To the outside observer, she was looking at the plane taxiing towards the jetty, but to Hermione, she was staring at a stranger.

She didn't recognize the man who stepped up behind her, offering a large, steaming cup of coffee.

"Professor," she started. "I barely recognized you."

He gestured to her own visage, "You are hardly the girl who walked into my class twelve years ago either."

"I'm blonde," Hermione snorted, taking the lid off of the coffee to pour in sugar and cream.

"You are unrecognizable but for your eyes," the Professor stated, matter-of-factly, sitting down and crossing an ankle over his opposite knee. The seats were of a faux leather, Hermione thought, and very straight backed. They were as nearly everything was in France, though- quite stylish. Even the carpet they stood on was an eclectic swirl of jewel tones.

Hermione stirred her coffee, watching the amalgamation of the cream and coffee swirl. "Might I take a liberty with your appearance?"

"Over there," he replied, gesturing to a low wall with a row of seats. "Behind there."

He got up and wavered on the spot and Hermione picked up their bags. Quickly unstopping the potion from his pocket, he drank it in one and Hermione watched the pain fall from his features.

"Better?" she asked after he had regained his color. He did not respond, but merely led her behind the barrier.

Putting her hands on both sides of Snape's jaw, she maneuvered his head so that he was facing her directly. She pointed her wand steadily and enunciated clearly, "Dissaugeo."

A sharp snapping came from Snape's mouth and when he opened it, Hermione could see that his teeth were no longer maloccluded, but straight, in an even, if yellowed, row.

"What in Circe's name was that?" Snape growled, rubbing his jaws with both hands.

She smiled for real this time. "I see no difference."

With that, Hermione flounced back to the other side of the gate where Draco was sitting, idly stroking his chocolate brown, shoulder-length hair.

"Watch the bag, please," Hermione said to the preening man as the deposited it. "I've got to use the ladies."

She walked down the corridor until she found the loos- a bank of doors to her right. Her hands were shaking as she pushed open the door and walked straight to the sinks, behind which was a wall of mirror.

Her eyes seemed darker and larger in her face- being on the run for nearly nine months had deprived her face of any plumpness and her cheekbones, chin and brow ridge stuck out ice pick keen. She was pale, as usual, with her usual scattering of pale freckles, but her cheeks were white and her lips chapped with a red inner ring. The short, blonde hair didn't make her look more pale, just more fragile.

But Hermione Granger was not fragile.

Without thinking, she shoved herself away from the counter, her bony wrists exposed by her too-large shirt sleeves.

The flight was boarding when she made it back to the gate, her hands shaking. "Have you taken your pain medication, Draco?" she whispered.

"In the loo, yeah," he replied. Hermione nodded, picking up the battered suitcase. Thankfully, they encountered no trouble in presenting their passports and boarding passes. Out the boarding door they went, the wind swirling Draco's hair and freezing Hermione's ears. They marked single-file up the tiny, steep flight of stairs into the cabin

Draco's seat pointed him to the middle of the craft, while Snape and Hermione had a pair three rows back. They settled in, Hermione leaning her head against the side of the plane again, her eyes closed, her hands palms down on the cool leather seat cushions.

As the plane took off into the morning sky, the tears began to roll down Hermione's sunken cheeks, one after another, each following in the path of the one before it.

"Miss Granger," Snape whispered softly. "Miss Granger."

This only caused her shoulders to begin to shake and the tears to pour faster. She cried silently, but violently.

"It wasn't your fault," said the Professor. Hermione ignored him, her dark eyes riveted to the retreating landscape.

"Miss Granger," he tried again. She ignored him still. "Pearl, it wasn't your fault."


	4. Chapter 4

Their craft touched down at half-past ten in the morning at a small, single runway airport. The Christmas air was warmer here as they came down the same flight of stairs they went up and crossed the tarmac to the baggage claim, a warm marble-tiled room. As they had no carry on bags, they exited and went directly across the hallway, they stopped at a small rental-car desk.

As Draco spoke in charming and perfect Spanish to the slightly over-weight young woman behind the desk, Hermione carefully threw several high-grade attraction charms at Draco. Within moments, she was handing over her own car keys.

"Gracias a ti, querida," he called backwards with a wave. As they exited into the Spanish morning, Draco spoke to Hermione, "That went better than perfect."

She snorted and took the keys. "It has nothing to do with my attraction charms."

Severus took the front seat again, to Draco's barely concealed dismay, in the tiny Ford Ka. As they did have a legal car this time around and were already early for their meeting, Hermione drove at a normal pace down the A-92 towards Granada, the great Sierra Nevadas looming over their heads with dusty white peaks.

"Our hotel is on the Plaza Nueva," she told Draco, pulling out several printed out sheets from her bag. "I need you to give me directions through the city."

He did, and they navigated the huge roundabouts and winding streets of the ancient city. At the edge of the Plaza Nueva, they parked the tiny car and got out, Hermione again leaving the keys on the roof of the car.

The Plaza was practically deserted this Christmas morning as they crossed it. They passed an ancient stone church and walked down the narrow causeway beside the River Darro. Several feral cats and kittens played on the banks. Their Palacio was only a few buildings down with a very tall, very heavy wooden door. Draco opened it, letting Hermione pull the bag in first before entering himself.

"Disculpe, nos gustaría tener nuestra sala. Tenemos una reserva en virtud del "Delgado"," said Draco, handing over his identification.

They were shown across a beautiful tiled courtyard with a gurgling fountain and up a flight of stairs to the right. The room was large and comfortable, with two large beds with warm golden covers and a mountain of pillows. Draco and Severus claimed the large wardrobe next to the bathroom and Hermione took the chest of drawers. A small clear-glass bud vase held several sprigs of dried lavender. There were two windows that looked into the courtyard behind the headboards and two on the exterior wall opposite that showed a partial view of the Alhambra Palace and the River Darro.

"I'll have the shower," Hermione said, unzipping her toiletries carrier. "After that, Draco, you can have it and Severus and I will go in search of a grocer's that's open."

Hermione undressed quickly after closing the door, the tile cool on her bare feet. The water felt very strange cascading down her back without her heavy hair. She worked quickly; time alone to think was not a good thing for her right now. With the soap from the sink, she scrubbed her body clean with the steaming hot water until she was pink. While she was still damp, she took care to moisturize her body for the first time in months. The creamy lotion felt heavenly against her skin. After brushing her teeth, and avoiding the strange person in the mirror, she wrapped the provided robe around herself and stepped out into the bedroom. Snape was seated at the desk, scribbling with an incongruous ball point pen and Draco was reclining on one of the beds, his shirt off.

"Put on a shirt, Malfoy, or go get a shower," Hermione said, throwing a spare toothbrush beside him on the bed. He did, leaving the Professor and Hermione alone in the room.

"Professor," she said once she had selected her clothing, "I'm going to change over here by the door. You just keep looking forward."

He stilled and Hermione prepared herself for the backlash, a thrown insult of how he would never want to turn around and see her mangy, boney arse. It didn't come, and he resumed his writing.

Her hair dried very quickly now, in a mere ten minutes or so. She was grateful as she and Snape stepped out onto the street with directions in their hands to a Muslim-run store. It was not far, but Hermione silently thanked Snape for keeping quiet on the walk. They had not spoken a direct word to each other since he had called her Pearl that morning. A fragile peace was met, each dancing across from the other on opposite sides of a circle.

The small, cluttered store smelled of day-old produce and spices, but they located the items they needed quickly. Another toothbrush for Severus, large bottles of muggle shampoo and conditioner, pain killers- they were trying to conserve their pain potions, a bottle of hair gel for Draco, several packages of batteries.

What they did not find was Hermione's brand of toothpaste. They looked behind things and tried to ask the clerk but none was to be found. She collected a substitute tube with a sigh and a not-so-concealed look of distaste.

That is when it hit.

She very nearly shrieked, "Neville!"

"Here?" whispered Snape.

"No!" she cried, pacing on the spot. "How could we not have thought of this? I'm such an idiot. We can use Neville! What if he marks Neville as his equal?"

Snape clasped his hands firmly on both of Hermione's frantic shoulders, "This is not the place for this!"

He wrenched the basked containing their items from Hermione's grasp and she meekly handed over the card. Hermione exited the store before he was done paying and was pacing up and down the cobbled street in front of the store.

"Control yourself, witch," Snape snarled, brushing past her and to the corner. She ran to catch up, but was quiet until they were in the privacy of their room and silencing spells were cast.

"Oh, Malfoy," she said as she sat down on the bed. "I've figured it out!"

Draco was just emerging from the bathroom, a towel around his shoulders to catch the wet ends of his strangely dark hair.

"Finish dressing, Draco," Severus drawled from the desk. "Then I'm sure Miss Granger will enlighten us as to what caused her to make such a scene in a shop."

Hermione's body fairly hummed as the little pieces began to fall into place. Draco sat on the bed after several overly-long moments opposite Hermione and Snape gestured exasperatedly for her to continue.

"Rodolphus Lestrange killed Harry," she said. "Riddle, of course, killed Lestrange afterwards- he was specifically not to kill Harry. Even if the prophecy was talking about Harry, it could also be talking about Neville! What if Neville could be the one to do it?"

"Longbottom?" snickered Draco. "He's our saviour?"

Snape sent his Godson a freezing look. "He was born at the end of July, as I remember. Alice and Frank narrowly escaped the Dark Lord three times."

"He couldn't remember if he was the chosen one or not!"

Hermione bristled. "He's loads better now. You know that he was the one to kill Fenrir Greyback? He also incapacitated Bellatrix Lestrange until the rest of the Order could arrive?"

Snape was quiet as Hermione and Draco stared the other down. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "I believe the idea has merit."

Draco scoffed.

"Do you have a better plan to offer for our consideration?" replied Snape to Draco's unsaid comments. "No? Then we had best be on our way to our visit with the Spanish representative."

He resumed his scribbling, this time on a fresh sheet of hotel stationary, as Draco pulled on another of Severus' jackets, boots and overcoat. They left, Hermione in the lead, her bright hair a strangely stark contrast with her black wool collar. Scaling up steep, slippery cobbles and through a forest in the middle of a city, they walked for nearly three-quarters of an hour before they reached the guard's post at the fringe of the Generalife gardens.

She presented a letter with a seal in the corner to the uniformed man and he waved them through, pointing the way to the Alcazaba citadel. Hermione had to present the same letter two more times until they were shown into a room with a long, narrow wooden bench.

Rafael Jimenez was a man of forty, near-sighted with a slight accent. He led them into his office, a high-ceilinged but narrow room.

"You must be very tired, Senorita Granger," he asked as they settled across the desk from him. "You have traveled much since we have last met."

She nodded. "I spent the month following our last meeting in Wales, the next two in Paris with Professor Snape working on some intelligence and the two weeks following that skulking around Liverpool."

"And the Order of the Phoenix needs the Gobierno Mágico Español to help with your cause."

Severus spoke up for her. "Spain's magical community has always been very friendly with Britain's. We have Voldemort, you had Franco."

Rafael shuddered at the mention. "Britain's Government, though, has not asked my gobierno for its support, though."

"Our ministry is overrun by Death Eaters," Hermione pleaded. "Can you not see the potential for problems with group with a name like 'Death Eaters' being in charge of Britain's foreign policy? They will take you next, I promise it."

Rafael's dark eyes glittered almost maliciously. "Do you not have a known Death Eater in your company?"

"I do not," she challenged.

"Your wands were catalogued when you entered the Alcazaba," he warned. "I suggest that you not use them if you don't want to be traced as enemies of España Mágico."

They fled.

Arriving back in their room, without speaking Draco and Snape packed up their room again while Hermione pressed a sequence of numbers into her phone.

"Sapphire?" she questioned. "On what body part to I have a tattoo?"

Draco turned wide-eyed to his Godfather.

She continued chattering, her voice bright. "Good. I have the onyx and opal bracelet with me. It looks great! Sparkles like new...yeah, I was able to get it repaired when I stopped off in Paris...Listen, the Spanish Crown Jewels weren't as great as I had hoped, I'm just going to have to go locate another set...Bummer, right? But I feel like we're going to be able to use some Jade soon...Yes, I'm serious. I know Jade is hard to work into jewelry, but I'm sure that it will work...If not, what else are we going to put in that tiara?"

But Draco was still stuck on the tattoo, "Where do you think it is?" he whispered to his Godfather.

Severus returned with an icy glare.

"...I think you aught to send a shipment of Amethyst and Jade to me in the States, once I figure out where I'm headed with this onyx/opal piece...Yeah, I love opals. They shine like nothing else...You want me to send a shipment to you in the Grim? Right-o. I'll take the onyx, then and send the opal to you."

"Is she sending me back to London?" Draco asked.

Snape seethed. "Would you shut up?"

Hermione clicked the phone shut. "Someone will be in Monte Francisco with a portkey, just over the Portuguese border. We have to get out of here, fast."

"I'm going back to London?" Draco asked.

Hermione pulled herself out of her chair, not having even taken off her coat. "You're going to work with Garnet and try to get the Mark off of some of our other operatives."

"My mother?" he asked.

"Not that its any of your concern, but yes. Ginny is competent enough to perform the procedure on her and a few others."

Malfoy balked, "I want you to do it. I don't trust Weasley."

Hermione whirled and trained a new, but still borrowed wand between Draco's eyes. "I don't give a shit about what you want. You want your Mummy to be free of the Dark Mark? Ginny or nobody."

She flung open the door and clattered her suitcase down and through the courtyard. Pausing only to disillusion it, she swept out of the hotel and Draco and Severus were left to try to keep up.

When they caught up, Hermione issued orders, "Professor, I need a car. Not that Ka we drove in on, but a good car. We're taking a coast road and if I'm going to get us there in less than five hours, I need something that actually drives."

Snape set off across the plaza. "Here!" Hermione called back to him. She and Draco met him.

"I didn't have these wands at the Alcazaba," she said, reaching into her beaded bag. She held out an assortment of six or so to Snape. He held a few and decided on a springy walnut wand.

"Thank you," he said, crossing the square.

Draco was next. He seemed perplexed that a short, stiff beech wand was the best choice, as his last was a dark Hawthorne, reasonably whippy wand.

"Since your Spanish surpasses mine," Hermione complimented, "take the card and go to that cafeteria to get a couple of sandwiches for the drive, and some fruit if you can manage it."

"Right," he replied and began walking away.

Hermione, on the other hand, sat down on the stoop, pulled out a road map and a hi-liter and began tracing the route from Granada to Monte Francisco in orange. "Granada on the A-91 to Antequera," she muttered to herself. "Antequera to Seville on the same...Seville to Monte Francisco A-49 to E-1..."

Draco wandered back across the square and sat down next to Hermione.

"I went to the loo," he said.

Hermione laughed. "Good job."

"I went to the loo and I took off my bandage- I'd just not let water get on it in the shower, but I wanted to look at it."

She sat up straighter and practically wrenched his coat-sleeve upward. Where the mark used to be was replaced by a sunken crevice between his ulna and radius bones, the skin a swirled, puckered landscape of pink, red and beige.

Her hand hovered over it. "May I?"

Draco nodded.

As her fingers dipped into the site, Draco noticed their chill and shivered. "You can feel that?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," responded Malfoy.

She made a noncommittal hum as her fingers kept probing, pressing deeper in places. "How does that feel?"

"Like my arm."

"I can't believe I haven't made you carry this infernal bag since I thought your arm would still hurt."

Draco had the grace to look hurt. "It did hurt this morning at the airport."

She sighed. "It probably will again later."

Two lights slashed across where they sat. Hermione looked up into the grill of the only sexy car she'd ever seen. Snape opened the driver's door to stick his head out.

"Sufficient?" he asked. She nodded her head and pressed Malfoy forward to get into the back seat.

"I'll drive," she said.

Snape scoffed. "I think not. You eat one of those sandwiches." He pointed at the brown bag in her hand.

"Well, then, right-o," she replied. Snape closed his door as she cast the muggle-repulsion charms so that they would not hit an innocent pedestrian, a modified notice-me-not charm and several vehicle repulsion charms to diminish the likelihood of an accident.

As soon as she was strapped into the cushy leather passenger seat, Severus hit the gas and clutch, propelling them out of Spain.


	5. Chapter 5

Somewhere between Antequera and Seville, Snape leaned over, casually shifting from fourth to fifth and asked Hermione to recount what had happened the day before.

Hermione knew immediately what he was asking and shut her eyes tight for a moment, her hands grasping at the center console and door handle white knuckled. She glanced frantically behind her at Draco, who was soundly sleeping.

"I can't, Professor," she whispered. "Give me another day. A few hours. Something."

He continued looking forward, the mid-afternoon sun slanting across his body, picking up the subtle shade of variance in his hair. A silver here, a few a terribly deep red, most a warm black. "I was informed after it happened. As I have said before, Miss Granger, it is not your fault."

"Who told you?" she asked, her shoulders sinking.

"Carnelian gave me the first account," he looked only at the road still, which was prudent as he was pushing one-twenty kilometers an hour. "Sapphire corroborated it while you and Draco were in the air."

Silence.

"It wasn't your fault," tried Snape. "There is nothing you could have done differently."

Hermione took the conversation into her own hands. "I think we should set up base in the States. A real home base and abandon Grimmauld."

Sighing, he took the bait. "And the reasoning?"

"Americans, and their government, in general, are very supportive of our cause," explained Hermione. "Charlie, Cinnabar that is, spent some time in the northern part and he was warmly received."

"Go on," Snape replied.

"Also," Hermione continued, "Americans are very localized- if their main government will not give aid, there will be many local governments that will be willing to."

"Could we not get the same in England?"

She mused. "We could, but we would be constantly under threat and we don't have the manpower to withstand that."

"Who do we have?" asked Severus, glancing for the first time in Hermione's direction. "I've been kept out of the loop, as they say, these past months while I've been abroad."

Steeling herself, she recited the casualties thus far, "Rubeus Hagrid, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Sturgis Podmore, Kingsley Shackelbolt, Alicia Spinnet, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnegan, Natalie MacDonald and Rose Zeller."

She stopped for a moment. "And that's just this past half-year."

Snape was silent as well, his eyes glued to anywhere other than Miss Granger. "You're in charge now, are you not?"

Hermione did not shirk. "I am. If not I, who? Ron? An excellent strategist, a beautiful Sergeant. But a leader? Who else? Mad-Eye? Tonks? She's too in her own head with grief, last I saw her. Molly? Molly's fierce, but to rally around? Arthur? Maybe Ginny, but she hasn't been in the field like I have. You? You and Draco both are too dangerous. Riddle found out Draco was a spy only yesterday. I've removed your mark and all but declared that you were the Order's man."

Rolling down the window, she pulled a crumpled package of cigarettes from her bag. Lighting one with her wand, she inhaled deeply and blew it out the open window.

"Everyone else wants to scatter," she whispered, barely to be heard over the wind. "Not me."

Snape's voice was deeper and more gravelly than usual. "Nor I."

Hermione sunk back into her seat, drew with shaking hands and tried to relax.

At seven thirty-five in the evening, the three pulled through the checkpoint into Portugal and finally felt safe again. Only moments past the border was the ancient fort of Castelo de Castro Marim, outside of which was a tall, willowy blonde with her hair loose around her shoulders and a large elf's hat on her head in red and violet.

The sun had set and the stars were out although the orange and pink vestiges of the sunset were still clinging to the horizon over the Castelo, resplendent in its fortifications.

Hermione nearly jumped out of the car to embrace the waving woman; "Oh, Luna. It's so good to see you."

"My favorite hiding spot is the London Underground," she sing-songed. "What's your favorite vegetable?"

Hermione nearly cried, "Asparagus."

"That's very good. Ragstorps are repelled by asparagus," she said, focusing on Severus and Draco, exiting the stolen car. "Hello Draco, Professor."

Draco smiled almost shyly, "Luna. Good to see you looking well."

"I'm quite all right," she said. "But we haven't time for pleasantries. Hermione, I have your portkey ready."

Hermione took their suitcase from Malfoy. "Where are we going?"

"A place called Cincinnati," she said, pigeon toeing her feet and looking to the sky. "Mars will be bright tonight."

"Where?" Snape asked.

Luna smiled. "I'm not too sure. Ron told me to make a portkey and I took the atlas and pointed. Came up Cincinnati. You're lucky."

"Why?" asked Hermione, although she really did not want to know the answer.

"You could have ended up in Des Moines."

A small, yellow baby's shoe in Luna's hand began to glow purple. "Well, there you go, Professor. Hermione."

They touched their hands to the laces and heel respectively and the earth began to whirl underneath them. Landing with a quite solid thump in a well padded room, a buzzer went off over the door. Their bag came falling from the sky and landed between them, just as Hermione and the Professor were getting their bearings.

"Ouch," Hermione protested, rubbing her elbow. Snape had already stood and graciously offered a long, slim hand. She took it, unceremoniously heaving herself from the ground.

"Passport, please," Snape said, motioning towards Hermione's beaded bag.

Shaking her head to clear it of the travel, she rummaged and came up with two British passports. "Right. Here we are. You're Parrish MacNeal and I'm Nichola Ravensdale. Got it?"

She looked around. "And where are we?"

He did not answer, only opened the door and stepped out into a fairly plush lobby in the mid-afternoon sun of midwest America.

"Appears to be a hotel of a variety," said Snape, walking confidently up to the desk.

"Hallo," he said to the brunette behind the counter. "The hotel we were to stay at for four nights has cancelled on us and we've only just arrived on the Continent. Could you possibly find accommodations for us? And it being Christmas..."

She stared at a computer screen for several moments, giving Hermione the opportunity to slip the Gringott's card into his waiting hand. "We would be happy to offer you one of our deluxe rooms with one king sized bed or two double beds for four nights."

"Excellent," said Hermione happily. "I'm every so tired and would love a bed!"

"We will get you taken care of," the lady smiled. "Could I have your name, sir?"

"MacNeal, spelled M-A-C-N-E-A-L, ma'am. First name Parrish, P-A-R-R-I-S-H."

Her tag read Meagan. "And your home address?"

"Nichola, darling, could you pull out my passport?" Snape asked rather smoothly. " I don't remember if my address or yours was on it."

She looked, reading carefully. "Mine," said Hermione to the clerk. "We're at nineteen Braycross Way, Farmstead, Kent, E15 6PL, England."

"Thank you." Meagan did not look up from her screen. "Would you like one king or two doubles?"

Snape spoke up, "Two doubles would be sufficient."

"Thank you. Your room is on the tenth floor, number ten-oh-nine. Elevators are behind you and to your left. Enjoy your holiday and enjoy your stay. Merry Christmas!"

"Thank you again," Severus said. "We appreciate the accommodation."

They rode in silence to the tenth floor and down the hall to number ten-oh-nine. The card clicked in the door and they were admitted to a dark, antiseptic-smelling, air conditioned room.

"I would make a list, Professor, of all the things we must do tomorrow, but I'm so very tired, I just need this," Hermione said, dropping their suitcase at the end of the second bed and hastily shedding her coat, jeans, sweater and shoes.

She climbed under the covers in her teeshirt and a pair of orange underwear and was asleep before Snape could respond. He sat down on his bed, both covered in thick, white comforters, and removed his jacket, shoes and trousers, swapping them for grey lounging pants and a thin white tee shirt.

Snape drew the curtains and put out the do-not-disturb sign before pulling back his own covers and retreating into the world of unknowing.

When Hermione awoke again, the clock by her bed read ten in the evening local time. Snape was asleep still, his knees tucked up close to his chest and the blankets in one hand. Taking the portable phone off of the cradle gently and pulling on her denims, Hermione gently opened the desk drawer to fish out the room-service menu. She opened the door to the hall as quietly as she could.

Resting her head against the wall, she browsed the menu, a special loose holiday menu printed on thick cream vellum on top of the usuals. She was not in the mood for a Christmas turkey dinner, but ordered two of them anyway. After glancing only cursorily down the extensive wine list, she ordered a bottle of Sangiovese.

Hermione went back into the room as quietly as before, but Snape was already awake, sitting up in bed, his hair in a strangely intimate disarray.

She cleared her throat. "I've ordered dinner."

He did not ask what, but simply thanked her before going to the bathroom to seize one of the robes to wrap around his shoulders.

The cell phone began to ring from Hermione's beaded bag. She dove for it, answering it on the third ring.

"Hello?" she panted. "My hip. What did you say to me after the Yule Ball that made me hit you?"

Severus was at attention, listening to every word. "Hold on," she said. "Let me put you on speaker- Onyx is right here."

"Right, mate," said Ron into the room.

"You're on, go ahead," Hermione said into the phone, which was laying on her bed. Snape took the desk chair and moved it to the bedside, listening raptly.

"This evening, Alexanderite, Jade, Cinnabar and I went to the zoo-"

"Hold on a second," interjected Hermione, gesturing to Snape for a pen and paper. She wrote hastily, in her precise, looping script: zoo- Hogwarts. He nodded.

"Go on," said Snape into the speakers.

"Right. So, we went to the zoo and we were pretty sure we would find another piece of the broken crown there-"

horcruxes- crown, she jotted.

"under the yellow place."

Hermione was impatient- "Well, did you?"

"We got the punch bowl!"

She nearly screamed, "Oh, that's great! Did you take care of it?"

Snape cleared his throat and Hermione started, realized and began writing again:

yellow place- Hufflepuff Common Room

punch bowl- Hufflepuff's cup.

"No, Jade did. He rolled snake eyes," Ron replied. "Only the lizard and the hat left."

"Hold on, please," said Hermione, scribbling:

rolled snake eyes- destroyed it with a basilisk fang

lizard- Nagini

hat- Ravenclaw's diadem

"Ok, I just had to write some things down," Hermione explained.

Snape spoke up before Ron could reply. "When are you going to send the Jade to us?"

Ron retorted quickly, but without his previous malice towards the older man. "As soon as you can be ready for it."

"We need a place to put the shipment, first. I think we can take care of that today...tomorrow?" Hermione said.

"You're holding up all right with pebbles?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "I've been stealing most things, you know, movers and the like, so we're still good, pebble-wise."

pebbles-money, she slashed across the page.

"We will procure a place for the shipment tomorrow," said Snape, crossing his ankle over his knee. "It would also be helpful if we had a computer."

"A what?" Ron asked, and the two in America could almost see his eyebrows shooting up.

Hermione sighed. "Is Lapis around?"

"Yeah. Give me a moment," replied Ron, setting his receiver down.

"Lapis?" mouthed Snape.

Ernie MacM. She wrote. He nodded.

"Hello, all." came Ernie's voice from over the phone. "Good to hear from you, Pearl."

"You too, Lapis," replied Hermione before digging into exactly what she wanted. "Listen, Onyx said he thought we needed a laptop to Sapphire, but Saph didn't know what that was. You think you could get one for us and send it with the Jade?"

"Sure, Pearl." he laughed. "What's a few pebbles for you?"

"You're a wiz, Lapis, I'm sure there are other ways of getting one."

Snape scowled at their antics.

"Right on, love." replied Ernie. "When's the Jade due?"

"Ask Sapphire. I think next day or two." A knock sounded loudly on the door. "Sorry, Lapis. Dinner's here and I'm starved. I'll talk with you soon."

"See you," he clicked off.

Severus opened the door for the bellman, who wheeled in a small, folding table with several serving dishes on top with covers.

"Thank you," Hermione said, depositing a few American dollars into his hand, courtesy of the beaded bag.

"Merry Christmas, ma'am" he replied, letting himself out.

Severus cleared his throat. "Thank you for ordering dinner."

She nodded, pulling the table up to her bed so that she could sit there and eat with Severus in the desk chair across from her.

The turkey smelled heavenly and was accompanied by thick, fragrant brown gravy, thoroughly mashed potatoes, a whole dish of stuffing, a server of cranberry chutney, tender glazed carrots and crisp steamed green beans. Under the last cover was a brandy cake, Christmas compliments of the hotel.

Severus had gone to the bathroom and put on trousers and a sweater as she was readying the table, and he sat down across from her, gently pulling his napkin to rest on his lap.

"D'you think we aught to pray?" asked Hermione. Snape quirked an elegant brow. "I feel like if we were ever going to pray, Christmas dinner while as a refugee in a foreign country would be it."

He inclined his head sharply and held out his hands, palm up, expectantly.

Hermione, after a moment's shock, laid her fingertips on his palms lightly and they joined hands for a tentative, terrifying moment as she prayed.

"Please help us." her voice cracked. She coughed and tried again. "We have our health and a roof over our heads and a meal before us, but we are almost helpless. It will take a great intercession or dumb luck for us to prevail, but we're still ready to do what we need to."

She opened her eyes to find Snape's attached to hers. "Amen," he pronounced and pulled his hands away from hers. She immediately felt the loss of their warmth, but tried not to show it.

They ate greedily, their first hot meal in who knows how long. They were quiet, only questions coming in a one-word format, such as 'wine?' or 'salt?'. Drinking the Sangiovese steadily and eventually raiding the mini-bar, the two picked at the brandy cake and mused benignly about the weather (they were British after all) and read the magazines left for them, but mostly they were in the other's company. It would be too much to say that they were enjoying each other's company, but they were at least comfortable in it.

Hermione would never think of him as 'the Professor' again, after that night and she would admit that to him. Severus would never again think of her as Miss Granger or even Hermione. Those were different people: the student and the innocent. In his mind, after that night, she would always be Pearl, but he would never admit that to her.


	6. Chapter 6

The sleeping potion Snape administered to them both at half after twelve worked exactly as needed: they woke refreshed and clear-headed at nine the next morning. Severus took the facilities first while Hermione put on a change of clothes and took the elevator to the lobby in search of breakfast.

She walked out into the brisk air on Boxing Day, although they didn't celebrate it in the States, and wandered around the block for a few minutes before finding a Starbucks- the ubiquitous mainstay of mainstream American life. Sheltered from the wind, Hermione placed their orders: two butter croissants, a large black coffee for Snape and a cappuchino for herself. When she got back, Snape was already dressed and on the line with the concierge.

"Coffee," Hermione smiled, setting the paper cup before him as an offering.

He sniffed the contents, his new nose more obvious to Hermione. "Thank you," he replied. "The concierge is bringing up a laptop for our use."

"How'd you pull that one off?" Hermione asked, settling onto her unmade bed.

"Our checked baggage was lost. On top of our reservation being lost at our other hotel and it being Christmas, he's bringing a laptop up to our room for our convenience."

"Sneaky," she giggled. "What's first?"

"I suppose we're going to have to find a home base," Snape said. "Preferably in plain sight."

Hermione groaned. "How plain sight?"

"I mean that we're going to have to integrate," he replied. "It would be illogical to try to make a place unplottable and to completely remain anonymous."

The concierge knocked just then and Hermione let him in. In moments, Severus had the machine running and had called a realtor, using the names Hermione had given them, and had made an appointment for later that morning.

"I've got to get to a bank, then," Hermione said, fishing a large banded accordion file out of her beaded bag. "We're going to buy today?"

"With any luck we'll be able to take possession immediately," he replied. "Cover story?"

"You've been offered a cushy job here at the University and they want you to start at the beginning of next term," Hermione lied easily. "And I'm your wife."

Severus considered, pushing his hands through his now short hair. "While you're out, try to find a pair of wedding bands."

Hermione finished the last of her croissant. "What time exactly are we meeting the realtor? And here?"

Glancing up from the screen, he pushed a scrap of paper towards her. Written in his spiky writing that managed to look angry even when placid was the name of the realtor- Jim Kerr and the time of eleven thirty am.

"Right," Hermione said. "I'd best be off to the bank, then."

She left again, and after asking for directions to the nearest bank, Hermione set off down the street in the brisk weather.

Something had changed last night, Hermione thought. She couldn't pinpoint when it had happened, but it was somewhere between their conversation in the car in Spain and when they had fallen asleep at midnight. Severus had to feel it too, she reasoned. Why else would he have slipped and called her by her given name? And he had poured the wine for her without snarking and let her have the last of the brandy cake and had humored her discussion on analgous bone structure in grindylowes and gnomes.

A truck zoomed by on the downtown street and sprayed greyish snowy mush onto the sidewalk, hitting her shoes.

Now was not the time to be thinking of this. _Harry was dead_. She shook her head hard, pushing all thoughts out of her head. She was here to help win a war, not to fall in love.

What? Her mind screamed. Fall in love?

She thanked whatever Deity was listening that the bank was on her right and she could go in.

"Welcome to Second Federal," said a woman with a name tag reading 'Jeanine', as Hermione walked in the door. "Can I help you with anything today?"

"Yes," Hermione began, holding up her accordion file. "My husband and I have just immigrated to the states for his job and I need to set up our bank accounts."

"I can help you with that," she replied, gesturing for Hermione to follow her into an office. It was rather plain and utilitarian and lacking in ways of comfort, but suited the purpose. "Can I have your identification?"

Hermione pulled her passport along with the transcripts from Gringott's and handed them over. Jeanine was a tall, buxom woman with teased and sprayed bright blonde hair and rather pronounced large teeth.

Jeanine tisked. "I seem to be getting more and more of this bank's transfer orders," she looked up. "Is Bumblebee Mutual that large in the UK?"

Hermione had to bite back a laugh. At least she knew who the Goblins were loyal to now. "It's not huge, but has great security." She could only imagine.

"I just need to make a call to their branch and confirm," she said, picking up the phone. She dialed, waited then spoke into the line, "May I speak with Mr. Griphook regarding account number seven-forty? Thank you."

Hermione stared around the office, unable to get it out of her head that she had just put Snape and 'in love' in the same sentence.

Jeanine spoke, startling Hermione from her thoughts, thankfully. "We were able to confirm your account and transfer it to our bank after you fill out some paperwork."

She slid it over to Hermione. "Will I be able to put my husband on the account?"

"Yes, he'll just need to stop by our branch and show his ID to sign at the bottom," Jeanine fairly winked at Hermione. "You can fill in his information, though."

"Right..." Hermione muttered. She pulled Snape's fake passport out of her bag and began copying information. Name- Parrish MacNeal. Date of Birth- May the third, 1969. What? 1969? Snape got off well. When Luna had made this set of passports, she must have decided to take a score of years off of him.

Snape is forty-two. Hermione felt strangely intimate at the thought. She even knew his real birthday- January the ninth. He would be forty. It flopped her stomach in a not unappealing way.

Why did it feel so personal to say to herself, 'Severus is forty-two'.

The ink-dot under the tip of her pen was growing larger, almost eclipsing the whole of the number nine in 1969. Shaking herself, she filled in her pertinent information, that is, being Nichola Ravensdale, born the tenth of December 1974. Great. Snape gets a few years taken off and she's aged by four.

Hermione left the bank at a quarter til eleven with directions to a place where she could find a fun pair of earrings for dinner that night- or possibly fake wedding bands. Either way, Hermione took the escalator past Tiffany's and Brook's Brothers to a small, dark shop that smelled of incense and reminded Hermione a little too strongly of Trelawney's classroom. But they had sterling silver bands, she saw, and a few with pretty stones in them.

She selected a medium width silver band for Severus, remembering his fingers on her palms the night before and estimating a size nine. For herself, she chose a slender gold loop. She slid hers on her finger, feeling strange at the thought. She'd never worn a ring on that finger although she had owned rings before, and it felt foreign.

Tucking Snape's ring in her jacket pocket, she hurried back to the hotel.

He was waiting for her in the lobby, two fresh cups of coffee from the room's coffee maker in his hands. Hermione, her hands shaking a little, as she took it from him greeted Severus warmly.

"I've this for you," she said, pulling the little black velveteen box from her pocket. Snape flipped it open and looked a moment at the silver ring before putting it on his finger.

"I've never worn a ring," he said to Hermione, for no logical reason.

She shrugged gallically. "I haven't either. Never been married."

"I tried to wear an earring once," he replied, sitting at a grouping of plush yellow and blue armchairs.

Hermione giggled despite herself. She settled into the sofa to the right of Snape's chair. The fabric was thick and heavily made, with a nice exposed weft. Rubbing her fingers on the arm, she soothed herself with the feeling of the ribbed texture.

"Who are you and what have you done with my Professor?" She nearly fully laughed at his indignation.

He sighed, took a sip of coffee and said, "I was young once."

"You're still young," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "Besides, Parrish MacNeal is only thirty-one, didn't you see?"

Snape took his passport from Hermione and searched. "Ah, I see. The years have been kind to me."

She took it back. "How old were you when you did it?"

"Did what?" he asked.

"Pierced your ear," giggled Hermione. He rewarded her laughter with a brief almost-smile.

He crossed one ankle over his knee. "I was fourteen, the summer after fourth year, and Lily and I decided I would look cool. It was 1974."

"What kind of earring?" asked Hermione.

Severus sighed. "If you must know, it was a little clear stone. We didn't have the pocket money to buy one so I wore one of Petunia's that we stole from her jewelry box."

She snorted outright into her coffee. "Couldn't you have found something more masculine?"

"I was fourteen. I assume you did stupid things when you were fourteen," he scowled.

Laughing only harder she said, "No, only having a crush on Ron."

"I would equate that with having an earring."

"But not as awful as a sparkly, feminine earring."

He smiled for real this time, barely showing the bottom parts of his upper teeth. They sat in silence for a moment before they were interrupted by a tall balding man.

"Are you Mr. MacNeal?" the man asked Severus, bending at the waist to speak to him in his chair.

Snape nodded and stood up, offering Hermione his hand once he was upright. "I'm Parrish MacNeal and this is my wife, Nichola."

Hermione took his hand, which was cased in a cool leather glove, and shook it. "I'm Jim Kerr, your husband and I spoke on the phone this morning."

"Yes," Hermione effused. "I'm terribly sorry it's on such short notice, but he was only offered the job a week ago and we had to get here in such a short amount of time..."

"Quite all right," he replied. "Why don't we sit here for a few minutes and review some of the listings I chose for you?"

Severus inclined his head and the three sat down, Hermione and Jim on the Sofa, Severus in his chair. They chose several, all in a few suburbs, with what Jim claimed were excellent schools. After narrowing the choices to only a few, they left the hotel and got into Jim's car, a late model Mercedes. They drove north for a while up I-71 and made small talk about the city- where the best places to eat are, where to have a good drink, and the like.

The car turned right at a stop light and meandered through a small wood and emerged in a quiet neighborhood with faux-colonial houses on one side of the street, on the outside of a large circle with woods in the center. Several houses from the entrance, they pulled into the drive of a large, grey wood-slatted colonial.

"This house has been on the market for around a year," Jim explained, opening the front door for them.

He told them the rest of the particulars, but Hermione and Snape were already wandering about, whispering to one another how each space could be utilized. To the right of the foyer was a dining room, nice in size, and connected to the kitchen with a butler's pantry. The kitchen with an island was large enough to have a dining table and roomy enough for Molly Weasley to have prepare her feasts. A fireplace in that room would be convenient for floo access.

Across the foyer from the dining room was a large sitting room with space enough for their meetings. Behind the living room and at the end of the kitchen was a small, sunny room that Hermione said would be sufficient as a bedroom for one of the members.

"I think we could get two single beds in there or a double. Maybe Mr and Mrs Weasley's room? Or Neville and Ron? Something like that," Hermione mused, their conversation masked from the realtor's ears.

Upstairs were a further three bedrooms, one large enough for at least three to share.

"Girls, probably," Snape said, pointing to the large bathroom.

"I'd take it," replied Hermione. "And I've shared with Ginny and Luna before."

Snape scoffed. "We might have to set aside a room instead for Draco and Miss Lovegood."

"You caught that too?" Hermione laughed. "Either Luna or Tonks. Maybe both. Plenty room."

The other two could fit two easily or three in a pinch, and shared a bathroom. "Definitely for boys," Hermione said, to Snape's chagrin.

On the third floor, there were two more rooms, these with interestingly angled ceilings from the hipped roof with a closet-sized bathroom. "We could either put all girls up here or all boys," remarked Hermione.

"How many beds do you think we can fit?" Snaped asked, turning around on the spot to look around the attic.

Hermione counted. "We could probably fit at least eight up here, with a maximum of four in the master bedroom and two in both the others, with two on the first floor, so what's that? Eighteen? And Jim said there was a cellar as well."

"Eighteen..." he mused. "I don't know if we're going to find another place that'll have room for eighteen."

"There's at least twenty-five that'll need beds," Hermione sighed. "I don't even know where to start."

Snape replied, "Bunk beds. Make a list and start dividing. I'll stall the realtor out back."

He swept down the stairs, leaving Hermione in the attic to plan. She pulled out a pencil and scrap parchment and began dividing...The closet in the master bedroom was sufficient for a mattress, wasn't it?

After nearly half an hour of work, she finally found a way to make them fit: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the downstairs bedroom, Parvati, Padma, Katie, Narcissa, Andromeda and Hestia in the master bedroom with Bill and Fleur in the walk-in closet. Charlie, Draco and Snape got one of the smaller bedrooms on the second floor and Lee, Percy, Dean and Colin Creevey took the other. In the attic, Hermione, Tonks, Ginny, Luna and Hannah Abbot took one room with Fred, George, Ernie, Neville and Ron in the other.

She skipped down the stairs, paper in hand to show to Severus, who was chatting with Jim about whiskey on the patio.

He looked the paper over and nodded. "So, you think this is it, poppet?"

If a look could convey pure hatred, Hermione would be a murderer. "I like it," she demurred.

"Right, then," he said, turning to Jim. "We'll take it."

He had the grace to look dumbfounded. "You'll take it?"

Snape nodded. "Take ten-thousand off and we'll have payment for you this afternoon. We want to take possession immediately."

"You're paying cash," the realtor intoned.

Hermione replied, "Yes. Rather convenient, isn't it?"

"I'd call the owners," Snape replied, gesturing to Jim's cell phone.

He stammered. "All right, then. What bank do I need to get you to?"


	7. Chapter 7

The owners were indeed in favor of closing the deal that afternoon. Jim drove Hermione and Snape back downtown where they met again with Jeanine at Second Federal to verify their identities and to get a cashier's check for the amount of the house.

Hermione did not want to know the price of the house, she told Snape. He just gave her another of his half-smiles and she immediately decided her new life goal was to make him smile at every given opportunity.

Then the world came rushing around her, making her ears ring.

Harry is dead.

It seemed that they were under a dense fog, her words and her actions did not seem her own, suddenly. She signed her name, Nichola Ravensdale, three dozen times all the while noticing that it did not feel like she was in control of her own arm.

Was this the Imperius?

Thankfully, Snape had noticed the signs of Hermione's impending panic attack. They finished and shook hands, Hermione smiling oddly. Severus said good-bye and thank you to the realtor before putting his arm around Hermione and guiding her away from the conference room and to the door.

Harry is dead.

Hermione stared at the carpet, Snape's guiding arm holding her steady. Berber, she thought, and ugly too. Worn gray with random bits of red, yellow and blue confetti. She could see the paths were people walked most frequently. They were dingy.

Her pulse began to quicken and her breathing became shallow and rapid.

Harry is dead.

"Breathe," Snape whispered into her ear, his head bent low to her's. "You'll be fine..."

A freezing gust of air hit Hermione as they opened the door into the street. She gasped, almost as if the cold air was not oxygen, but instead some foreign gas that was unbreathable.

Harry is dead.

"Breathe," reinforced Snape. She took a deep fortifying breath. "We're only two blocks from the hotel. You'll be safe in our room."

Hermione nodded, watching the sidewalk below her as Snape fairly drug her along, his arm around her shoulders. "We're only a block from the hotel. You'll be safe in our room."

They walked even faster now that the door was in sight. By the time they were three doors down, Hermione and Snape were nearly running. The doorman opened the door for them quizzically, staring at the couple.

"Into the elevator," Snape murmured. "You're doing so good, Pearl."

Instead of comforting her like Snape had meant, this only tightened the bands restricting Hermione's chest. As the doors slid shut, Hermione's first sob rang out.

Harry is dead.

She buried her face in her Professor's overcoat and let herself remember. She could not force Harry's death back and longer- they were safe, now, in America, and Harry was dead.

Severus pushed open their room door with his foot and guided Hermione to her bed, freshly made by the housekeepers. He gently pushed her to sit on it and he removed her shoes and her coat. Hermione bawled openly, letting Snape do as he wished.

After casting a drying spell on the hems of Hermione's trousers, he nudged her under the covers. She laid her head back and let her tears come as they would.

A quarter of an hour later, they had slowed enough that Snape got up from the desk chair that he had pulled to the bedside and retrieved tissues and a bottle of water.

"Thanks," Hermione said blearily, her voice scratchy and low. He inclined his head.

"Would you like to tell me what spurred that?" Severus asked, staring at his folded hands.

She looked out the window, away from him. "Harry's dead."

Snape remained silent.

"He's really dead," she whispered again.

"You're able to process it now," replied Severus. "You don't have to run around being the doer and the achiever right now. You don't have to be in charge. You don't have to shoulder the burden of our fate at this very moment."

Hermione closed her eyes, pinching them shut as she collapsed back against the pillows.

"We have to do something different," Hermione proclaimed.

"Longbottom," replied Snape.

Hermione shook her head fiercely. "No, there's more."

He was silent, waiting her explanation.

Letting out a frustrated growl, she slammed her fisted hands down on the mattress. "It's so close to the front of my brain, I know that there's something else we need to do, but what is it?

Severus thought that something was a strong relaxation charm and a tiny dose of dreamless sleep.

When she awoke later that evening, Snape was reading a book at the desk.

"How are you?" he asked, tucking a sheet of hotel stationary into the pages of his book.

Hermione nodded. "I'm all right, I think." She stretched, the crusty feeling in her eyes and head disappearing.

He nodded. "The phone rang while you were asleep."

Steeling herself, she closed her eyes and gestured for him to continue.

"We got Pettigrew and Travers," Severus said quietly.

Hermione shot back- "Who did we loose?"

Severus was quiet, looking down at his hands in an unfamiliar gesture of timidity.

She raged, throwing back the covers and coming to stand over Snape's chair, shouting. "Who did we loose?"

He moved quickly, standing to over-power and grabbed her by the shoulders and shaking. She fought back, though, with a preternatural speed- ducking her head into his chest and wrenching her arms upward out of his grasp.

"Who is it, Snape?" she shouted once she was free.

His face was red and his nostrils flared with barely contained rage. Quiet, you stupid witch!"

"Tell me," she said, her chest heaving.

"Moody," he replied. "Hestia and Creevey."

Her head fell. "Damn," she whispered. "I want them out of there. Give me the phone."

Severus complied and she dialed. "Garnet, Pearl here."

She babbled into the phone, the Weasley girl obviously noting that Hermione was in charge now, after Harry's fall. "I want Jade, Amethyst, Morganite and Aquamarine here as soon as possible. As soon as Amethyst can be ready to ship."

"Right," Hermione continued. "We've got the storage place ready...this afternoon...Could you get some of the dollhouse furniture ready to send with the shipment? And have you taken care of that problem with the Moonstone? Excellent. I really appreciate your effort. And the Opals were not much trouble?"

Hermione chuckled. "Good. Thanks, and I'll see you soon."

The phone clicked shut audibly and Hermione turned reconcilitorally towards Snape. "Let's get some dinner."

He did not look up from his book.

"My treat?" she asked, her voice high and hopeful. It wasn't even their money- it was the Order's money. He looked up, scowling. "Your choice and my treat?"

"Fine," he relented grudgingly. "I want Italian."

Hermione flashed a glimpse of her white, even (normal sized) teeth and replied. "Let me freshen up and change clothes and we'll ask the concierge where an Italian restaurant would be."

As the door to the bathroom closed, Hermione saw Snape release a tiny smile. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth slowly several times. This was all right. She was an adult. This war was the most important thing to her, but life must continue- even in hiding.

She thought of Ron, and how he'd fallen in love with Padma Patil only the year before, and of Tonks and Lupin- they got married in the middle of the whole thing. And George Weasley and Katie Bell. George didn't even have an ear when he and Katie started going together. Of course there was Harry and Ginny- poor Ginny, loosing the man she loved like that.

She probably didn't think that there was time anymore for love in war.

But Hermione knew she was wrong. There always had to be time for love, because, hey, it was the power the Dark Lord knew not.

She finished dressing and washing her teeth and face and went back to the bedroom to retrieve Snape. He seemed in a better mood, now, and was putting on his over-coat.

"I called the concierge," he said. "There is a lovely place just around the block. Rave reviews, he said."

"I don't have to transfigure anything, do I?" Hermione asked, chewing her lip and glancing at her worn denims and chunky sweater.

He opened his own coat to reveal a nicely pressed (wizards had all the fun!) button up shirt in a deep claret and a waistcoat.

"You did goth before there was ever a word for it," Hermione muttered, going to her suitcase and retrieving her black trousers and a plum colored jumper. She changed quickly, patting her strangely short hair and coming out.

"Better," she smiled, putting on her own coat

Severus opened the door to the hallway and set out the 'do not disturb' sign. "What is goth?" he asked.

"It's a sort of underground culture that dresses as you do," Hermione explained, hitting the down button.

"Why would they do that?"

Hermione smiled, "Most of today's youth wears bright colors and clothing that doesn't cover anything at all. The goth movement, I've been told, is about being more somber and demure."

"I do not know if I would call myself demure," he replied, holding the elevator door for her. "but I would agree that there is a fair degree of gravity in my dressage."

They went down, the bell ringing at every floor they passed. "The world we come from is so old-fashioned that most wizards get taken for goths anyway."

"Have you?" he asked.

Walking into the chill air, Hermione replied. "No, not really. I tend to go towards muggle fashion. I find it far less cumbersome. Especially during wand-work or duelling."

He offered Hermione his arm and she took it with little hesitation, her gloved fingers resting in the crook of his elbow comfortably. They walked comfortably, although Hermione's mind was reeling faster than she could keep up with.

Severus was placid, she noted. He did not seem to have the same myriad of thoughts running through his head about 'the situation' between them.

They made it to the restaurant.

Thankfully.

Severus requested a table, and although it was a Friday night, they were shown directly to a table up a wide set of stairs onto the mezzanine level.

Their waiter arrived, a skinny college kid with a scraggly black goatee. "Can I offer you a glass of wine or a mixed drink?"

Hermione glanced at Severus, who had been reading the wine list. "The Rupestro Sangiovese," he said to the waiter and then looked at Hermione. "You did enjoy the sangiovese we had last night, correct?"

She nodded, not exactly sure what to say. It seemed to be an innuendo, but they had only slept- or possibly an invitation. Tension this thick shouldn't be allowed by law.

"The Sangiovese," Severus told the waiter, "and two waters."

Hermione scanned her menu, not really taking anything in. How could he be so confident when she felt so hesitant. It wasn't like she was a blushing virgin- quite the opposite.

He laid his menu aside. Looking up, Hermione asked, "What're you getting?"

"The pork saltimboca."

Hermione scoffed. "That's not Italian."

He ignored her. "And you will have?"

"The salmon."

Frowning, he called the waiter back to their table. When he arrived, Severus said, "My companion has decided on the salmon. Do you have an alternate recommendation as the red I chose will not do for fish."

Hermione stammered, "I can get something else-"

But neither men seemed to hear her. They decided on a Passerina before Hermione could enter again.

"And for you, sir?" the waiter asked.

He answered, "The Saltimboca, please."

"Right away," replied the waiter. "And I'll have your Passerina right out."

Hermione was left dumbfounded, but was saved from having to comment by the persistent ringing of the Order phone.

"Hello?" she said into the phone. "In my hair. Who did you have a secret crush on your fourth year?

She laughed. "Right-o. What's going on?"

Severus looked intently at her from across the table. "How soon?" she continued. "Great. They'll have to use a different excuse at the reception desk than I did- the other hotel lost our reservation. Maybe they're just stopping in Cincinnati for the night."

The conversation continued for several more moments, while the wine and bread was delivered. "Well, I'm wearing my onyx and pearl bracelet to dinner right now. It looks lovely. I'll be back at the stead in a while- we've gotten wine."

Hermione snorted. "Garnet- seriously. Head out of the- yes. I mean, yeah. No! I've got to go. I'm looking forward to your shipment."

She snapped the phone shut, a wry smile still on her face.

"Might I inquire as to what you find so amusing?" Severus asked, tearing off a bit of foccacia bread and dipping it in oil.

"Garnet was just being cheeky- about us eating dinner together."

He frowned, chewed, swallowed. "I suppose we could have gotten room service."

"She meant that we were eating dinner together." Hermione replied, taking a chunk of bread as well.

"I do not understand your inflection, Miss Granger."

She blushed brightly, which really did bring a certain sparkle to her eyes. "She meant that we were going to sleep together."

Tearing off another piece of bread, he dipped it in the oil and vinegar and then salted it. "Of course we are." he said. "Try it this way."

He reached across the table, his shirt cuff falling back slightly to reveal the vulnerable surface of his inner wrist, blossoming with blue veins under the nearly translucent skin, and presented the bread centimetres away from Hermione's lips. The edge brushed against her lower lip and she found herself opening her mouth in hopefully wasn't an idiotic way, and letting him deposit the foccacia behind her teeth.

"We are sharing a hotel room," he said, sitting back in his chair, satisfied looking.

Hermione glared good-naturedly. "I don't have to explain her real meaning, I presume."

He smiled another half-smirk, but was cut off by the waiter presenting their salads. Hermione's heart pounded as she ate her salad, not tasting the fabulous hand-crafted caesar dressing or the perfectly crunchy croutons.

Severus looked almost predatory in this low light, his dark eyes searching out hers like heat seeking missiles, and locking on. He was always the one to look away first- not because he was uneasy, but because Hermione was the one who craved the gaze.

She put the cool glass of her wine goblet up to her lips and held it there for a moment before drinking. This time it was his eyes that followed her movement.

The pork and the salmon came, but the event was nearly missed by both Hermione and Severus- who were locked in their conversation without words. Hermione picked up her fork and knife, preparing to cut into the pink salmon, put them down with vaguely shaking hands and took her wine glass up instead.

As she rested it back on the tablecloth, Severus reached out, lightning fast, but Hermione was not afraid. He grasped her smaller hand and pulled it toward him, making her reach slightly over the table.

"I cannot provide you with a relationship or with silly dreams or promises of love everlasting," he murmured, so low that Hermione had to lean her ear closer to him.

She struggled with her breath and wet her dry lips. "I know," she replied.

He released her hand only to grasp her wrist and turn her palm upward and press his mouth to it.


	8. Chapter 8

They ate quietly, Hermione's hands shaking on her silverware. She paid and let Snape hold up her coat for her to put on. Breathing in the cold air outside the restaurant, she looked towards their evening with anticipation.

To feel alive.

Severus again tucked Hermione's hand into the crook of his elbow and walked back to the hotel at a maddeningly temperate pace.

"You seem distracted," he murmured, his head bending to be close to her exposed ear.

She snorted a laugh and said, before she could censor herself, "You've all but told me that you want to take me to bed."

He nodded brusquely. "I do."

She smiled, her teeth chattering slightly from the chill or from nervousness.

"You will find that when in situations such as ours and with the events going on around us that it is best to be direct."

She glanced up at him for the first time, his breath emerging from his mouth a white cloud and the streetlamps illuminating the lines of his face. He caught her looking at him and stopped.

"Why are you-" Hermione began, only to be cut off by Severus' strong hands coming to rest on her ribcage and her jaw. His eyes were open as his mouth descended towards hers, but closed almost gently as he pressed his mouth to Hermione's.

His lips were chilly from the night air, but his mouth was warm as they chased each other hungrily. Hermione's heart sped up frantically and it became harder to breathe. Just when she was sure that she would actually die from either a heart attack, an aneurysm or from asphyxiation, Severus pulled away to look into her widely dilated brown eyes.

"Not now, my girl," he said, pressing another kiss between her brows, her eyes drifting shut again. "We have much to accomplish before the shipment."

Hermione smiled devilishly. "They're coming in the morning, English time."

He said nothing, but Hermione could see him processing the information. They walked in companionable, if tense, silence back to the tall limestone building they were staying in. When they reached their room, Snape gently slid her coat from her shoulders, then his own and hung them in the tiny coat closet.

"Wine?" he asked quietly, not quite looking at her.

She wet her lips. "Please."

He opened one of the mini-bar wine splits and splashed the ruby liquid into two tumblers, handing her one. She drank deeply.

Hermione sat on her bed, her stocking feet tucked under her. Severus took the chair at the desk again and slumped in it, his legs extended straight and crossed at the ankles as he contemplated his drink.

"Professor," she said softly, her cup empty.

He looked up, humor in his eyes. "Don't you think that's a little formal?"

"You never invited me to use your given name," Hermione replied, standing to place her glass on the dresser.

Nodding, he made to swipe his hair from his eyes and realized with a frown that it was not there, and hadn't been for several weeks. "Consider yourself invited."

"You can call me Hermione, should you like," she added tentatively. He nodded.

When he spoke again, his voice was so low Hermione had to strain to hear him. "We have so little time."

She chose not to answer, not knowing what he meant. He drank the last of his wine and poured another glass. Going to the closet to get the beaded bag, she retrieved her crumpled packet of cigarettes. Lighting it with her wand, she went to the window and shoved it open. As she exhaled out over the city, she saw Severus take one as well. Swiveling her hips toward him, she offered her wand-tip to him and he lit gratefully.

They sat in silence, the tension not quite broken, but far more comfortable. Hermione smoked slower than Severus, but when she threw her spent butt out the window, he was there beside her- out of his chair and leaning against the frame of the window.

"Pearl," he whispered, tentatively running his fingers down the side of her exposed neck. She closed her eyes and nodded- wanting him- wanting to feel alive and wanting even more to remember the feel of him after this night.

Would it just be tonight? A recurring event? Hermione didn't care. All she knew was that if she didn't have this infuriating, domineering, insufferable man in her arms she was going to be irrevocably lost.

His mouth hovered over her lips and Hermione gave an almost imperceptible nod. More tentatively than before, Severus brushed his mouth over Hermione's once, then twice before kissing her in earnest. Hermione let herself go against his chest, her chin tipping up to his greater height. Severus' hand made its way up to her head, one strong palm cupping the underside of her jaw, the other grasping and rubbing inarticulate circles on her ribcage through her thin sweater.

"Come," he said, and in that moment, she would have done anything he had asked. They backed up against Severus' bed until Hermione's knees gave out at the edge of it. He laid her back, putting one knee onto the mattress and framing her face with his forearms as he kissed her soundly again.

His breath was hot as he trailed his mouth across her collarbones and down her sternum. Hermione didn't realize where his hands had gone until she felt him seize the bottom hem of her jumper and pull it up only slightly to use his thumbs to stroke the pale flesh of her belly. She lifted her arms after a moment to allow him better access to her tender sides and the flat plane of her sternum. Her world was one blissful moment after the other, hands grasping almost too tightly, fingers pressing almost too deeply and bodies trying desperately to merge.

Hermione scooted gently out of his grasp and up the bed to sit up on her knees and take off her sweater. There were two day's worth of armpit and leg stubble, but Hermione felt so confident in the event she was taking part in that she did not think twice. Her bra was plain blue serviceable cotton, possibly a little past when she should have thrown it out, but the way Severus' hands caressed her through it adoringly almost made her choke up. The rough broadcloth of his waistcoat chaffed against Hermione's skin for a moment until she brought her hands to the buttons and swiftly unfastened them.

Severus stood only for a moment, to shrug the waistcoat off and to unbutton his cuffs before he was beside Hermione again, laying on their sides now, and facing each other.

There was something so terribly taboo, completely forbidden that made both of them even more aroused- former teacher and student, now commander and soldier, face to face, their breathing shallow and laboured.

Hermione chuckled softly and caressed his cheek, feeling the day's worth of stubble and years worth of worry and tension.

"What do you find so humorous?" Severus murmured, running his palms up and down her bare arms.

She smiled. "I didn't realize how long I'd wanted you."

He scratched at her back lightly and nibbled on the sinews of her neck a moment before answering. "At least since I was the Defense Professor..."

Hermione gasped. "I was sixteen!"

"Shut up," he replied, taking her mouth with more force, one hand on the divot of her waist the other tangled in her short hair. She responded furiously and in kind, pulling open the buttons on his shirt to press her stomach to his, hissing at the contact of flesh. Pushing it off his shoulders, Hermione allowed her mouth and hands to roam freely across the plane of his chest- the light smattering of dark hair, the round, pink nipples and his beautifully jutting hipbones. He returned the affections, snapping open her bra and pulling it from her.

He grasped her around the ribs tightly, his hands slowly moving upwards to the exquisite underside of her breasts and then running over her taut nipples, erect in the air and waiting for Severus' mouth. Hermione moaned deep in her throat when his lips did capture a waiting nipple to give it a satisfying suck and nip. Her head reeled, her only thoughts were of his mouth and what it was doing to her so intimately.

It was almost surreal, their frantic coupling.

Hermione snaked her hand down his back, along the ridges of his spine and the contours of muscle, to the waist of his trousers. She dipped her fingers past the band at his hip and scratched at the sensitive skin there. He ceased his suckling and lay beside her on his back, allowing her access to his trouser button and fly. A hand lit on her shoulder as she worked them open and suddenly he was naked before her, sharp ankles and lean calves. His hands fisted at his sides as Hermione ran a single fingertip up his length and he moaned openly.

She put her head down to taste him, and finding that she liked having him in her mouth, she drew deeply, letting her tongue twist around the sensitive skin of his glans. She let him thrust gently against her mouth as she closed her thumb and forefinger around the base, exerting sweet pressure.

"Up," he choked, grabbing her thigh, still covered in her pants. She took them off, kneeling before him in a pair of yellow bikinis. Severus grabbed one side and jerked it down, possibly chaffing her leg in the process. They hung around her ankle as he pushed her into the position he wanted her in, the apex of her thighs in front of his face. Propping himself up on his right elbow, he used the fingers of his other hand to stroke at her thighs and labia, forcing her to jerk her hips at his hand, longing for contact. He gave in to her, lowering his mouth and lapping at her folds until she could no longer control the movement of her body.

Hermione gasped, a sweat breaking out on her lower back and face. Severus did not stop his ministrations as she began to buck at him, he only steadied her hips with both hands. In moments, he felt her come against his tongue, her release streaming onto his tongue.

In the mumbled afterglow, Hermione took him into her mouth again as Severus tentatively licked and nipped at her until she was fully aroused again. He swelled hard and thick in her mouth, rocking at her lips rhythmically.

"Pearl," whispered Severus, sitting up to look at her, her lips around his cock. She glanced up at him. "Show me where you want me."

She crawled up to the head of the bed, her back against the pillows. She closed her eyes and with one shaking hand, spread herself to him. He made a sort of noise and gave her inner thigh a kiss before readying himself at her entrance.

Severus' right hand came to rest on her sternum, the thumping of her heart against his palm, and his left hand guided himself into her slowly. When he was fully inside of Hermione, he was silent and still for several long seconds, his cock jerking and twitching every few moments as he reigned himself in. Moving his hand up to caress Hermione's exposed throat, he began to thrust, gently and tentatively at first, as if memorizing the feel of her.

Hermione was doing the same- marveling at the shape and width of him, his tapered head just right for pulling out all the way save a scant few centimeters and then stroking all the way in again. Severus fit inside her snugly, but not painfully tightly- just right.

He began moving against her harder, his sharp pubic bone grazing at her clitoris with every stroke...

"Severus," whimpered Hermione, taking his hand from her face and nudging it downward, where he got the idea and began to flick and pinch and rub at her until she was arching under him again, about to gain her release.

He whispered into her ear, his breath coming in short puffs against the shell of it, "I'm not done with you yet."

She whimpered, thrusting her hips up against his and wrapping her ankles around his waist, desperate for pressure.

"On top," he commanded, rolling off of her and onto his pillows. She scrambled up, her fingers fighting for purchase on his slick chest.

Hovering over top of him at her entrance, she smirked, taking in only an inch and pulling back. "Two can play that game," she teased.

Apparently not. Severus grabbed at her hips, scowling angrily at her, digging his short nails into her flesh and dragging her down onto his cock until their pelvises met. He pushed and fed her surge upward, slamming her down onto his hips again, three times, until he gave her the look that read plainly, 'are you willing to play nice, now?'.

She was, lifting herself with her strong thighs and letting herself rock on him.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "I want to feel you at least once more."

Hermione complied without thinking, snaking her middle and forefingers down to where they were joined, closing around his penis where it penetrated her, feeling the slickness they created, then back to her sensitive bud, where she worked at it as she rode him.

As if he could feel her crest nearing, Severus almost totally took over the thrusting, up and into her from below. She tightened, keened, and came with a surge of wetness, allowing her head to loll down and onto his chest.

He thrust a few more times, then grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her off, growling.

"I want your mouth."

She scrambled to her knees, taking him into her mouth again, tasting their combined flavors as he released. He moaned, deep in his chest, his eyes open and locked on the woman beneath him.

As they laid beside one another, their breathing evening out and finally lulling towards sleep, Severus pulled Hermione's hips close to his and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

She smiled, closing her eyes, content to let the next morning come to her.


	9. Chapter 9

When Hermione woke next, the shower was running and the divot next to her was still warm. She smiled, stretched and glanced at the clock. Four am, right on time.

She picked up their strewn clothing, gently folding Severus' and placing them on top of the covers, thrown back over the pillows. Casting a freshening charm and a wrinkle-reducer on her trousers, she rummaged into her bag for clean underwear and a shirt.

Hermione was just pouring the first cup of the morning when Severus emerged from the shower, water still clinging to his chest and hair.

"Coffee?" she asked, gesturing.

He grunted a please and sat down at the desk to click on the television. ABC world news on, the blonde anchor talking about Irish bailouts and a Korean tiff.

"Where's your tattoo?" Snape asked suddenly, his eyes appreciative on her legs as she pulled her calf-height boots on.

She started. "What?"

"Your tattoo. You asked Weasley where it was- secret question."

Smiling and passing him a cup of coffee, she replied. "Maybe I'll show you one day."

Severus dressed quietly, the drone of the early morning news in the background. Hermione did not disguise her appreciation as he let the towel around his waist hit the ground. "Minx," he grumbled, but he was getting less cranky with more coffee.

The Order phone rang on the desk. Severus got it first, flipping it open and answering.

"What grade did you receive on your third year final exam?" He asked. "Thank you, Jade...Analogous Fungi...You're here?...Room ten-oh-nine."

He snapped the phone shut and turned to address Hermione, "They'll be up in a matter of minutes."

"I'll make another pot," Hermione replied. In only a few minutes, there was a tentative knock on the door. She answered it gently, allowing them to slip in before their glamours were dropped.

Neville shimmered back to form first and was met head-on with an armful of Hermione hugging him round the neck soundly.

"Oy', 'Mione," he laughed. "Good to see you too!"

She pulled back from him, still holding him at arm's length, and made a visual check that he was all right before hugging him again.

"Morning, 'Ermione," said Fleur, taking off her long camel-colored overcoat.

"It's lovely to see you, Fleur," replied Hermione before hugging Luna tightly. "All is well at home?"

This time, Narcissa Malfoy answered. "Garnet did the work on my mark yesterday afternoon. She was competent."

Hermione had actually never been face-to-face with Narcissa Malfoy before, excepting the time at the world cup when she stared at the back of the blonde's head the whole match. She was tall, and beautiful, with an aristocratic heart-shaped face and wavy, golden blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Severus had his hands on her shoulders, a casual near-embrace from one friend to another. Hermione had heard rumors that Narcissa Malfoy and Snape had been close friends for many years, but she had never thought about it until now.

"I am glad to hear it," replied Hermione, looking at Narcissa's outfit. "Not to be rude, Narcissa, but you're going to have to change clothes."

Severus hid a smirk by turning away to put their coats in the closet. "What is wrong with my dress?"

Hermione rummaged in her beaded bag for a moment. "You're in muggle America." She pulled out a pair of tweed trousers and a soft cream colored sweated. "We're nearly the same size. You might have me beat up top, though."

Narcissa took them hesitantly, then escaped to the bathroom.

"I need to supply you with new wands," Hermione said, pulling several out of her bag. "Yours could be traced, so do not use them. Who wants to go first?"

Luna came forward, staring at the assortment in front of her in Hermione's hands for several long moments before choosing a long, whippy, beech wand with Unicorn hair as a core and walking back to the other side of the room.

"How do you know that one will be the right one?" Neville asked her as she tried it, conjuring several dozen roses.

She smiled. "It looks like a very large toothpick."

Neville shook his head at her not-answer, his overly-long hair falling in his eyes. He went next, picking one, then several others up before deciding on a thick, elm wand.

"Fleur?" Hermione asked.

"Eet ez hard to loose 'ore wand," she replied, fingering her white birch wand.

Hermione nodded. "I really miss mine. But this one does all right for me."

Fleur put her loved wand on the coverlet next to Neville and Luna's. She chose a slender, resiliant mahogany wand with a rich, reddish sheen.

"That leaves me," Narcissa muttered, looking out of place in Hermione's clothes. She cast down her Willow wand with the others and briskly assessed the three left and took the shortest, a petite applewood with a hippogriff feather core.

"What's next, 'Mione?" Neville asked, shrinking and resizing a pen absently with his new elm wand.

"Who wants to commit grand-theft auto with me?" Hermione threw out, rubbing her hands together.

Luna said nothing, but chewed on a strand of hair. Fleur blanched and Neville busied himself with resizing the pen again.

"Right-o," she sighed, turning to Severus. "Coat on, it's auto theft for us this morning."

He nodded and began to put on his scarf.

"Fleur," Hermione began, addressing the newcomers fiddling with their foreign wands, "I want you and Luna to work on duplicating these beds and shrinking them. I want twenty-five of them."

Fleur nodded and began her wand-work efficiently. "Nev, I want you and Narcissa to duplicate the pillows and blankets and shrink them, too."

"All right, 'Mione," he answered.

"Ready?" she turned to Severus, who had gotten her coat from the closet for her. They took the stairs down, disillusioning themselves as they went.

At the fifth-floor landing, Severus asked Hermione how many times she'd committed this particular crime.

"About eighty times," she replied, almost flippantly. "I feel like, in war, people end up getting the same jobs to do over and over- usually they're illegal. What's your recurring petty crime?"

"Breaking and entering," he replied with nearly no thought. "I must have done it at least seven hundred times during this war alone- not counting the first."

Hermione laughed, the tension between them still palpable, but seemingly past the crescendo- for now.

They exited the building and into the early morning, turning the corner sharply and heading to the parking garage down the block.

"Which ones do you want?" Severus whispered to Hermione, his invisible eye on an Audi.

She shrugged, then realized he couldn't see it and replied. "I don't care, except nothing too conspicuous."

They wandered through the dimly-lit, cavernous garage for a few minuted, the damp grime on the cement floor crunching under their unseen feet. Hermione tugged on Severus' sleeve and told him that she was taking the blue late-model Volvo to their right.

He looked around for several moment and settled on a mid-nineties red VW Jetta Wagon. Hermione snorted. "You want a station wagon?"

"Its practical," Invisible Snape scoffed.

She giggled again. "Just shrink it and let's go."

He complied after hexing the security cameras, that particular jinx unknown to Hermione. They stowed the cars in their coat pockets and headed out.

Severus' hands lit upon Hermione's invisible shoulders, stopping her before they reached the chill of the morning outside the garage.

"Peal," he whispered, somewhere near her ear. Hermione shivered, knowing that Severus would feel her.

"Kinky, idn't it?" Hermione asked. "We're invisible."

He scoffed and kissed her soundly. Nuzzling her face into his overcoat, Hermione sighed. "I merely wanted to assure that things are not different in the light, or pardon me, dark, of this morning."

She nodded, closing her eyes and leaning in to his embrace. "I am still your soldier to command, Pearl."

Standing straighter, she replied quietly. "Is that how you see our public relationship?"

He paused, took in a breath. "I know that you are the leader of the Order now. I am a servant of the Order- always."

Sucking in a breath, she dared to respond: "And in private?"

A chuckle was his only response, his arms dropping and a kiss pressed to her forehead. They linked arms again and walked back to the hotel's parking lot, the snow beginning to fall more heavily now, in large flakes the size of a two-pound coin. Most melted upon hitting the pavement and the invisible couple, but some was beginning to pile up on the sidewalks.

Hermione sat her miniature car down in a spot adjacent to the spot where Severus had set his. They enlarged them and set to work modifying them- the Volvo was now light green and Severus' choice was now black, surprise, surprise. They cast all manners of charms on the license plates and several dings were fixed while others were made.

"Our cover?" Severus asked. "Is it the same as before?"

Hermione nodded, rubbing her freezing hands together before blowing her breath onto them. "I'm a translator, you're a Chemistry Professor- just got a job at the University of Cincinnati. Parrish MacNeal and Nichola Ravensdale. We're nice, but like to keep to ourselves and are quite private."

"And you have the nicer car than I?" He asked, chiding her gently.

Hermione scoffed. "You have a commute to make."

"Finished?" Severus changed the subject abruptly.

When they entered the room again, Neville and Narcissa had finished the comforters and pillows and Narcissa was now enchanting them into different colors and fabrics. Fleur and Luna were amusing themselves with the beds, which were done as well and being transformed into different styles. Neville had taken initiative and began to copy the armchair and dresser.

"Right," Hermione said, pouring another cup of coffee for herself. "I want to distribute your new passports now so that you can get accustomed to your names for the next while."

She pulled three UK passports and one French from her beaded bag and passed them out after flipping each open and glancing at the pictures.

"Okay," she said, handing two to Neville and Luna. "Brother and sister Zara and Nathan Harris. And, Narcissa, you're Isobel Davis. Fleur, Simone Laurent."

Severus cleared his throat from the other side of the room. "Miss Granger and I are under the names Nichola and Parrish MacNeal."

"Hey," Hermione retorted. "I kept my own last name when we were married: Ravensdale."

Neville goggled.

Ignoring it, Hermione continued. "Ready to go?"

The gathered put on their coats once again, chatting amongst themselves. Severus put their clothes into their satchel again, with a familiarity that went unnoticed by the four travelers, but Hermione noticed immediately and smirked in his direction.

With their new wands, the others disillusioned themselves and followed Hermione and Severus to the elevator, casting a repelling charm so that others didn't try to get in on the intervening floors. They disillusioned themselves out of the building and followed to the awaiting cars.

"I'm not sure..." Narcissa began, looking dubiously at the black car Snape had just opened.

Luna looked on Mrs. Malfoy gently, "More people die from gormagon attacks every year."

Neville and Hermione giggled.

"Severus?" mumbled Narcissa expectantly.

He scowled, ill of patience. "I possess a muggle driver's license. Get in."

Neville, Luna and Fleur decided silently to get into Hermione's waiting Volvo. Hermione pulled out first, winding her way through the silent streets and to the freeway.

The phone in Neville's possession rang suddenly from the seat beside Hermione. She dug her fingers into the leather of the steering wheel, running her nails into the seams as Neville answered.

"Hello?" Neville said into the receiver. "Fourth year. What was the first potion I ever blew up? Right. Want Hermione?"

Neville passed his phone over, Hermione switching her grip on the wheel from right to left-handed.

"Yes?" Hermione answered.

"We've got a problem over here," said Severus from the other end of the line.

She sucked in a breath, "What's wrong."

"Narcissa just got a message from Lucius," He replied. "They're planning an attack for the New Year."

"Fucketall," muttered Hermione. "We'll talk more when we get to the house."

Handing the phone back to Neville, she flipped on her windshield wipers before addressing him and the others.

"I want them out. Fast," she commanded, her eyes on the road and her knuckles white on the wheel.

Neville looked at his gloved fingers on his lap. "An attack?"

"Mon dieu," whispered Fleur from the back seat.

Hermione shook her head. "Not yet. On New Year's."

"There must be time to get theem out, Ermione?" Fleur asked, meeting Hermione's eyes in the rear-view.

She glanced to the other occupant of the back seat and they met eyes, "It all depends on how fast Luna can get the portkeys ready."

"Mrs. Malfoy's new wand is very good for transportation charms- applewood," Luna said, absently transfiguring her earrings from small watering cans to pineapples.

Fleur reached up to put her long, slim hand on Neville's shoulder. "An Neville and I will make sure that zee house eez ready for zee others."

The rest of the drive was uneventful, Fleur and Neville going over the list of room assignments from Hermione and Luna transfiguring her earrings several more times.

They pulled up to the house, Hermione once again snorting at the faux-colonial styling. The sun had not yet risen over the bone-like branches of the woods and there was a light dusting of frost and snow over the yard.

While Neville and Fleur unpacked the trunk of the Volvo, Luna wandered off into the woods to collect sticks, she said, to make portkeys. Severus helped a slightly nauseated Narcissa out of the car and inside to rest.

Rubbing her hands together, Hermione set out to work on the wards.


	10. Chapter 10

The gentle aroma of oregano and basil drifted up from the kitchen to the rooms Hermione was preparing on the second floor. She breathed in deeply, putting the final touches on one of the smaller bedrooms, this one for Lee, Percy and Dean. The quilts were soft, and done in shades of pale blue, orange and green. Narcissa had been busy while Hermione and Snape 'procured' their vehicles.

Absently, Hermione charmed their walls a muted yellow.

"We are done in zhere," said Fleur, peaking her head around the door frame, her hair spilling in a sheet around her shoulders.

"Great, lets take a look," Hermione replied, wiping her hands on her denims. In the master bedroom, Fleur and Narcissa had been quite busy, magically enlarging and refinishing. Five single beds were laid out in a rough circle, although the room was square, and were clothed in crisp white linens and comforters.

Fleur took Hermione into the closet, which had been enlarged a touch, as well as having a small enchanted window added. "I am grateful for you giving Beel and I privacy, 'Ermione," she said. Hermione only waved her hand at her.

The other rooms Fleur and Narcissa completed were similar, the two in the attic now partitioned with a small, cramped corridor at the top of the stairs and doors leading into the bathroom and two bedrooms. They had sloped ceilings, but each were still comfortable, despite being shared by five people apiece.

Hermione turned around a few times to get a feel of the space. "These are lovely, Fleur."

She shrugged gallically. "We liked the decorating."

"Snape should be done with dinner, if you'd like to head down," said Hermione. "I'm just going to add a few more wards to the windows before I join you."

Fleur disappeared down the stairs as Hermione got to work, weaving runes and protective wards to the upstairs windows. Sweating as she finished, she laid down on one of the beds, one she figured was hers and stared at the door.

She lost track of time laying there, but soon Luna was at the door.

"You'll want dinner," she said, drifting to the bed next to Hermione's. "I've finished the portkeys and will take them after we eat."

Hermione yawned. "Thanks, Luna."

"Professor Snape cooks very well," Luna told her. "He made cioppino."

She looked bewildered. "What?"

"I think potions masters would be the best cooks," Luna replied.

"No," Hermione laughed. "What did he cook?"

Luna looked lazily up at the ceiling. "Cioppino. Italian seafood stew. My mum used to make it with grindylow too. I don't think Professor Snape has the grindylow, though."

Hermione only sighed pleasantly. "Come on then."

The smells of oregano and basil intensified as they descended, now mixed with the heady smells of thyme and garlic.

In the kitchen, Severus sat at the island bar with a book in his hands, the stew simmering on the stove.

"Smells lovely," said Hermione, taking in his tall, lean figure. He looked up at her, the last remnants of the sun flashing across his reading glasses.

He inclined his head.

"Would you like me to get the plates ready?" Luna asked.

Hermione took her bag off her arm and dug for a moment, pulling out two rather battered looking china bowls and a few odds and ends of silverware. "That's all I've got," she shrugged.

Luna took them from Hermione good naturedly and trotted off into the sitting room to set about duplicating them.

Lifting the lid from the large stock-pot that Hermione recognized as one of his cauldrons-cum-child's play pot enlarged, she smelled deeply.

"You might try some of the broth," he suggested, not looking up from his book.

She did, ladling some onto the wooden spoon he was using for stirring and putting it to her lips. His eyes were on her, now, as she rolled the flavor around her tongue. It was rich, comfortable and lemony, with a hint of heat provided by red pepper.

Snape hadn't taken his eyes from her.

"It's delicious," pronounced Hermione, placing the spoon back on a paper-towel.

He nodded and put down his book. "The bread will be finishing," he said. "Would you pull it out of the oven?"

She did, opening the door and using a dish towel to pull the loaves out to cool on the stone counter. "Smells good."

Using a long knife, Snape cut through the center of one loaf, steam curling out and around his hand. "Done," he pronounced, and began slicing in a comfortable, even rhythm the rest of the loaf. Hermione stole the fluffy heel end of the bread and began chewing contentedly.

"Minx," Snape mumbled, wrapping the loaves in a towel. Hermione quickly transfigured the pan he had baked the bread on into a sort of bread platter. She carried the bread into the dining room, where Neville was putting the finishing touches on a rather lopsided table and six rickety chairs.

"Thanks, Nev." Hermione said, putting down the bread in the center of the table.

He blushed. "Fleur and Mrs. Malfoy were much better at transfiguration than me."

"It'll hold." She gave the table a vigorous shake and was satisfied at it's stability.

Wiping at a smudge on the corner of the walnut-hued table with his wool sweater, Neville said, "We'll be needing to go to the market after dinner, won't we?"

Hermione sat gently onto the chair at the end of the table, trying not to wince. "I suppose so," she said.

"I can go," he said. "I know how to drive a car."

Taking another piece of bread, she broke it in half and offered it to Neville. "That would be good. Take Fleur and Narcissa too. Especially Narcissa. She's really got to get used to being in the Muggle world for a while."

Neville chewed thoughtfully for a while, swallowed. "You'll be ok here alone?"

Hermione scoffed jokingly. "I can take care of myself. And besides, I won't be alone. Snape's here."

"I worry about you, 'Mione," replied Neville, sitting down at her left, his chair pulling out with a soft whisper over the hardwood floor.

Hermione shook her head. "You shouldn't. I've got everything under control."

She looked around, at this unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar country and said it again, this time more to herself than to Neville.

Luna brought in the dishes and flatware, setting the table irreverently while Narcissa did some quick leveling charms on the table and Fleur busied herself making drinks. Snape brought out the cioppino and began doling out portions before sitting on Hermione's right.

"I'd like to pray, if that's all right," said Hermione after everyone had their portion. She looked down the table, Neville on her left, then Luna, Severus on her right, then Narcissa, then Fleur at her opposite.

Severus looked on at her placidly, then extended his left hand to her, and his right to Narcissa. Neville took up the idea, taking Luna's hand and Hermione's. Fleur did the same at the other end, grabbing for Narcissa and Luna.

Something happened, Hermione noted, as the circle was completed. There was a sense of calm and understanding that flowed through the group, as if the simple act of touching, of extending themselves to the ones around them, the act of merging from a group of differences: Severus the Death Eater, Narcissa the Society Wife, Fleur the Bombshell, Luna the Oddball, Neville the Klutz and Hermione the Bookworm; into something bigger than their respective titles: into a real family of their own choosing.

Her voice shook as she spoke her prayer, just like it had for Severus and her Christmas meal. "We need your help," she began. "There are more of us here now, and we're grateful to be together, but there are still more that need to be seen safely to us. We have this amazing meal and each other, but we will still sleep in cold beds. Please keep the others safe, and Luna as she takes their portkeys. Does God know about portkeys?" She shook her head. "I digress. We're still holding out for a great intercession, but I think dumb luck might do it too."

As he had on Christmas, Severus pronounced the Amen again, in his deep, clear voice.

They began to eat in silence, the tingle from where their hands had joined still evident. The shrimp, calamari and crab were cooked perfectly, Hermione thought as she devoured her stew, sopping up the last of the broth with the bread. Luna and Fleur cleared the table while Narcissa worked a bit more on the table and chairs at Neville's request.

"I want to show you something," Neville said when Narcissa had finished the chairs. "In the kitchen."

Curiosity spurred Hermione out of her chair to follow her friend who had stopped in front of the pantry.

"You need your own room, 'Mione- you're our leader now and you know it. It was Luna's idea that we do this for you," Neville explained opening the door, into what was the pantry, for Hermione. Inside was a tiny room, obviously enlarged, with a double bed and a small writing desk beside it. She stepped inside, hardly able to squeeze past the foot of the bed to the space beside, merely four or five feet. The desk at the head of the bed was a duplicate of the one in the hotel, with the same chair as was there.

She turned gratefully to Neville. "Thank you," she whispered, climbing over the bed to embrace him.

He blushed, "It was nothing. We just thought you'd appreciate your space."

"Thank you." she whispered again, into his shoulder. Neville had grown taller and more broad in the years since they had left Hogwarts for good. He still tripped every once in a while, and his transfiguration was in fact appalling, but he was a good man and a skilled fighter.

"I had better be getting the girls to the Market, hadn't I?" Neville said after a moment, extracting himself from her arms.

Hermione giggled. "Don't let Narcissa Malfoy hear you call her one of the girls. I think she'd have a fit."

"Never," he replied, slipping out. Hermione laid back on her bed, larger than the ones upstairs, and softer, too, she noted. The thick white coverlet was smooth under her cheek as she closed her eyes, belly full of lovely seafood, made by the man who was her lover.

Or was he? she thought with a start. He had made his intentions known in the car park, she remembered. But...?

The door opened then shut. Hermione heard one of the cars start up.

She rolled over onto her stomach. It didn't matter right now. Right now she was too tired to think straight.

A knock on her door. "Bugger," she muttered, going to it.

It was Luna, her traveling gear on. "I'll be leaving now," she said.

Hermione nodded. "Be safe, Luna."

She laughed, a little tinkling laugh. "Of course I will be. Dullopods-"

"I'm glad you always have a creature keeping you safe, Lovegood," Hermione interjected, smiling. "I'll walk you out."

She opened the sliding glass door to the back yard for Luna, who crunched across the frost on the grass to the property line, which glowed pink for a second when she crossed it.

Luna waved her multi-colored, mittened hand and was gone. Hermione, though, stood looking out into the cold night for quite a while.

"Close the door, you silly girl," Severus said from behind her. "You're letting all the heat out."

She did, turning to him with deep circled and haunted eyes. He took pity.

"Come," he said, taking her by the bicep. He led her into her room and cast a warming charm on her cool sheets. "Lay down."

Doing as he requested, she took off her shoes and jumper and laid on her stomach again, her arms pillowing her head.

Without warning, Snape grasped gently at the hem of her undershirt, tugging it up and over her head. Pushing up on her forearms, Hermione pulled the shirt past her shoulders and onto the floor before collapsing down to the sheets again.

His hands lit upon the flat plane above her hips, the heels applying delicate pressure to the tense and tired muscles there, and gently sliding upward toward her shoulders in smooth, even strokes. Just as Hermione was beginning to loosen up, he switched motions, his hands going in small circles, his left picking up seamlessly from where his right left off. It was deeper than before, but still not as deep as her muscles were crying for.

Severus' hands flitted up and down her spine slowly, finally beginning to knead at her shoulders, her flesh sliding through his fingers, the tension releasing. Tensing and releasing as he worked his way down from her shoulders to her hips, Hermione let out a low, poorly restrained moan. He chuckled quietly, pressing deeper and more penetratingly on each pass, her body going to jelly.

Just when the pressure of Hermione's tight muscles had receded, Severus began trailing his fingers down each side of her spine, loosening the crimped muscles from his kneading. The touches petered out into feather-light strokes of his fingers tracing inarticulate patterns over her sated back as if to say, 'I'm not going to massage you any longer, but I'll give you a moment to come to grips with that'.

The stroking stopped after a few minutes, but the loss of touch was quickly replaced by Severus' smooth chest tucking itself against her back.

"When did you remove your jacket and shirt?" Hermione asked sleepily.

She felt him smile against her neck, his breath coming in warm puffs. "I just gave you a massage and you want to know when I removed my shirt..."

Gently, so as not to disturb her languor, Severus reached down and unbuttoned the fly of Hermione's trousers and inched them down her legs and off with her help. "Would you like pajamas?" he asked.

She nodded, pointing to her bag on the desk. The bed dipped as he left it, ignoring her bag and instead taking his shirt from the chair and wrapping it around her, buttoning the buttons as she looked on with half-lidded, grateful eyes.

"Under the covers," he commanded, pulling them back for her and trying not to stare at her legs as she slid under.

She rustled around for a moment, got comfortable and looked up at him, her large, doe-ish eyes meeting his. "Stay?"

"For a while," he conceded, laying down beside her on the outside edge of the bed and letting her arms and legs tangle with his in a warm jumble. Hermione sighed happily and comfortably.

"When you became the defense professor? Really?" she said into his neck, staring at the fine unruly hairs on the side of his head.

He sighed exaggeratedly, "Must you bring that up?"

Hermione nuzzled closer. "Yes. Was it the skirt?"

"No," he ground out. "It was not those dratted skirts."

"Then what was it?" She playfully pressed.

Severus let out a long-suffering sigh, playing with a lock of Hermione's hair. "You really must know?"

Another girlish giggle, so unlike the Hermione that he had always known, or at least thought he'd known. "Yes."

Another exaggerated sigh, so unlike the Severus she had always known, or at least thought she'd known. "Fine."

She waited, near giggling. "It was at Slughorn's Christmas party. You wore that damnably gorgeous black dress and flounced around like you didn't know what you looked like."

"Well," Hermione commented sensibly. "I had turned seventeen by then."

"You think that makes it better, do you?" he asked, bolstering himself further up with pillows to look at her face.

She smiled genuinely. "You liked that dress?"

"I've said," he replied.

"I borrowed it from Parvati Patil," she explained, taking one of his hands in hers and examining it. "It was a horrid orangey color before that suited her quite well, but not me. I left early partly to escape Cormac MacLeggan and partly because my color charms have never been great."

Severus flexed his fingers outward for her perusal, "You've freckles on your nose."

"You noticed that then?"

"No," he said seriously, "I noticed that just now. I noticed your hips then."

She scrambled to look him in the eye, straddling his waist. "My hips?"

"Yes," he commented leisurely, bringing his hands to said assets. "And your breasts..."

Bucking his hands off defiantly she retorted, "Well, I've wanted you since I was at least fifteen."

"You've got me beat," he replied, dipping his head to close his lips around her nipple, showing itself through the thin white material of his shirt.

Hermione smiled, tipping her head back in satisfaction. "You're not going to let me go to sleep at seven in the evening, are you?"

He released her assaulted nipple, leaving a cool, wet spot on the cotton of the shirt she wore. "No."

She mock sighed. "Well, if that's the way it's going to be..."

Pulling her head down to him for a kiss, Severus hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Hermione's underwear, pulling it off around her arse and down her thighs.

"What do you want?" Hermione demanded, batting away his exploring hands.

He growled with impatience, shoving her off his lap ungracefully. Hermione landed with a feathery thump in the center of the bed on her side. Before she could get indignant with him for his unceremonious dumping, his left hand had worked its way down past her navel to push her panties further down her calves, to her ankle where he took them from her to stuff in his trouser pocket.

"Those are mine!" Hermione exclaimed, "We're refugees! I only have three pair!"

"You're a witch, my girl," he growled. "Duplicate some."

Caressing his left hand down to where he had taken her panties from, he deftly parted her and sunk his index finger into her, stroking languidly. Her first orgasm came easily, almost too readily, but Severus was not done in the slightest. Stroking her gently and rhythmically, he coaxed her to a second dizzying peak, after some ten minutes of murmuring endearments and encouragements into the delicate shell of her ear.

As she came down after her second climax, he trailed his finger up her folds to trace them around the shape of her lips, which were quivering from her heavy breathing.

Pushing up her shirt over her breasts, he pinched and teased her ripe little nipples, he entered her from where she lay on her right side. It took several pushes, because although she was fully aroused, it had still been quite a long time- at least, a long time before the previous night. When he achieved his goal and was seated inside her, he began long, languorous strokes, careful not to disturb her dreamlike state.

Their engagement was cinematographic, in a way; they were beautiful together. Little snapshots flashed before them: of Severus' long fingers pressing into her flank, their intertwined feet- Hermione's toes curling and flexing, her hand: coming over her shoulder to grip the back of Severus' head.

He stroked in, she pushed back; writhing together on the coverlet. Their first time had obviously been brilliant, and combustible- but this time was intimate, almost loving. Severus began to speak into Hermione's ear as he neared completion- something that she almost expected, after all, he had done it the night before.

"So good, my girl, so wet...tight..." he whispered before lightly biting the ball of her shoulder. He moaned his climax against the tender nape of her neck, convulsing and spilling. As they jerked spasmodically on the way back to earth, he gently and nearly tenderly laid kisses across her neck, almost reluctant to let go of their tenuous hold on bliss.

His lips were still on her skin when Hermione felt him slip into sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Severus was gone when Hermione woke next, at three in the morning, so her tempus charm said. His spot was still almost warm, as if he had only been gone for a few minutes. She snuggled over, placing her own head in the place left on his pillow and succumbing to sleep again.

He found her there in the morning, her feet on her side, her head on his pillow, laying diagonally across the mattress.

"Wake up," he said, touching her shoulder gently.

Her eyes flew open, pupils adjusting to the light and sleep coating the inner corners. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said seriously. "The first group arrived and I was sure you would want to greet them."

She sighed, rapidly unbuttoning his shirt and laying it across her chair. "I'm keeping this."

"I only have four shirts, Granger," he protested.

Smirking, she got out a pair of denims and a dark turtleneck sweater. "You're a wizard, duplicate them."

"I should have expected that," he replied, going for the door. "Would you like coffee?"

"Please," she said, using her hand to pat down her flyaway hair. "Make it strong and dark."

He left, leaving her to put on her shoes and apply a little chapstick. Making her way out, she caught up with Ginny, Draco, Fred and Ernie sitting in the living room being plied with tea and croissants by Fleur, who looked more nervous for Bill by the moment.

"I'm sure he's fine, Fleur," said Ginny, refusing a third pastry. "His portkey isn't set for another two hours."

"I just feel like somezing is wrong, but I am probably being silly," replied Fleur, putting the croissant on Ginny's plate anyway and fluttering out of the room, shaking her head.

"I'm glad to see you all here in one piece," Hermione said, walking over the carpet to meet them. "You're well?"

Draco pulled up his sleeve to show the site of his procedeure: it was similar to what was there before, but now with a luridly colored sword tattooed in its place. "Fred and George did this for me," he said in explanation, puffed up and proud.

"I see that everything healing well," smiled Hermione. She turned to Ginny, who was taking miserly bird-like sips of her tea. "Were you all right performing the procedure on Narcissa, Gin?"

She grimaced and put her teacup down for good. "It was not appetizing, really."

Hermione shrugged as if to convey unspoken things between them: We are the strong ones, and do what must. she said mentally. Out loud, she replied, "I'm sure it wasn't meant to be. You're holding up?"

The women embraced, Ginny whispered in Hermione's ear. "One minute at a time, Hermione."

She held her younger friend at arm's length as she had Neville, surveying her face. More messages were passed between their eyes, finally saying, more later, she then to Fred and Ernie.

"All's well on this end, Hermione," Fred said. "I've brought loads of things that we can try to use as weapons or defense. They're in my bag- we can look through them after lunch, if you would like."

"I would," she replied, sitting down on one of the upholstered chairs, very similar to the one (and likely duplicated from) she had sat on in the lobby of their downtown hotel, done in sage green and cream, not blue and yellow.

"What've you done to your hair?" asked Ginny, somehow only noticing for the first time the cut.

Draco answered for Hermione laughing near hysterically as he did so. "Snape cut it all off and charmed it blonde," he told Ginny. "You should have seen it- I've never seen so much hair on one person before. She banished at least three cats worth of hair."

"Very funny, Malfoy," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "I've a mind to grow it back."

Ginny nodded emphatically. "Your hair is gorgeous, 'Mione. So pretty."

"Thanks, but I know what I'm getting into with lengthening it."

Ernie chimed in, "I rather think you look nice as a blonde."

"Do they have more fun?" Fred asked, elbowing Draco in the ribs.

"Oh, loads," Hermione dryly replied. "I've gotten to do lovely things as a blonde."

Fred laughed. "Try being a ginger- now that's really lovely."

"I'd rather not, no offense meant, Gins," said Hermione, cracking a smile and placing her hand softly on her friend's shoulder, as lightly as she would caress a scared animal.

Ginny returned Hermione's smile, reflecting back one that was genuine and open. "It's just great to be here."

"I don't think it's half bad, this house." Ernie said, looking around the sitting room at the multitudes of sofas and chairs crammed it. "This is the room where we'll have meetings, right?"

Hermione replied, "As soon as Fleur and Narcissa are done with it. They're sure it needs a rug or something to make it more homey."

"Where is mum?" Draco asked, looking around as if he would suddenly see her.

"She's up in the master bedroom," said Hermione, gesturing vaguely at the stairs. "Do you have anything for me before you go look for her?"

"Yes," Draco replied, digging in his pocket for a small, wrapped bundle. "From Charlie Weasley."

"Thanks," she said, putting it aside for the moment, already knowing what it contained.

"And I've your computer," said Ernie. "I'll set it up once I've caught my breath. Trans-oceanic portkeys are not amusing."

"No, they're not," smiled Hermione. "My room is in the kitchen, where you think a pantry might be. Put it on the desk. Rest of you lot: once you've all had tea and have let your stomachs settle, I have assignments for you. I'm going to go take a quick shower."

Upon exiting, she turned to look at the group now safe in the Fake Colonial House, slumped on the settee and chairs, reluctantly sipping at lukewarm tea. Affection shone in her eyes, grateful that these particular people had come safe to America.

Ducking through the kitchen, she took her coffee from Severus and gratefully took a deep swallow. "Thanks," she said. "I'm off to shower."

"Enjoy," he murmured, running a finger on the sensitive underside of her white wrist.

She chuckled at his cheek. "I shall."

Entering the bathroom, she turned the shower on full heat and let the room steam up before taking off her clothes and stepping in under the scalding water. She washed herself vigorously, letting the soap slide down her body to be rinsed off by the spray. After lathering and rinsing her hair, she turned off the water with a quick flick of her wrist.

She toweled herself off and threw a charm at her hair to dry it out of habit, although it was nearly dry already- as short as it was.

When she emerged from the bath, Neville and Ginny were waiting for her in the kitchen, leaning against the granite island with fresh cups of tea.

"What's going on, guys?" Hermione asked carefully, conditioning herself for bad news.

Neville smiled reassuringly. "Nothing of merit."

"Just wanting to know where to go from here," finished Ginny. "Captain."

Hermione rolled her eyes, making them laugh, although they knew it to be true. "Nev, could you show all the new ones to their rooms? Let 'em put down their stuff."

"Sure, 'Mione." he replied. "And after?"

Hermione checked over her mental list of all that were present. "Ernie is setting up the computer and internet, Fred and I are going to talk weapon development in a bit, Snape is researching, Narcissa is starting finishing the downstairs transfiguration...Neville, can you take Ginny and Fleur to a clothing store for uniforms?"

"Uniforms?" Ginny asked, distaste obvious on her face.

"Yes, uniforms." said Hermione, planting a fist on one hip. "The Death Eaters have uniforms and they never hit each other with stray spells. If we are all in the same clothing, friendly fire will go down. Muggles proved it."

"What do you-" started Neville.

Hermione cut him off, not unkindly. "Ginny, you figure it out- whatever you think best, do."

"I've got it," she replied, grateful for the duty and the oblivion that came with mindless work.

"There was a clothing store near the grocery we went to last night," said Neville. "I'll start the car if you'll go get Fleur."

"It'll be good for her. Get her to stop worrying about Bill," said Hermione, shooing them along. "Send Draco and Fred to see me in my room if you see them."

"Can do," said Neville, fastening his overcoat.

Hermione found Ernie just booting up the gateway as Hermione came into her bedroom, noticing for the first time the scent of sex and her unmade bed with two head divots and the man's shirt thrown carelessly on the chair. For a moment, she stared at the back of his head, debating whether to flee or not.

"Ah, hi, Ernie," she stammered, still staring at the back of his sandy head and thick neck. He seemed not to notice, but he could have been faking it. "Almost done?"

"Yes ma'am," Ernie mock saluted. "I just had to reboot to finish the internet installation."

"Thanks," replied Hermione, sitting on the edge of the bed. She gathered her courage: "Did you-"

He snorted. "Yeah."

"You mean-" she gestured at the bed, catching MacMillian's greenish eyes with her movement.

"Yes." He clicked the mouse meaningfully, as if to cut her off.

Hermione pursed her lips- "You're not-"

"No."

A relieved sigh. "Thanks."

"Any time," he stared straight ahead. "I'm just wondering if it was-"

"None of your business," shot Hermione.

Ernie chuckled and shrugged. "I know nothing."

"Correct."

With that, she settled back onto the bed, her back against the wall, and began to research, her tiny, compulsively neat writing covering two and a half notebook pages before Ernie finished. He gave her a significant look, but walked out without comment. She filled two more with ideas before Draco found her.

"You wanted me, Granger?" he asked, sauntering in.

She sighed. "It's Hermione."

"You wanted to see me, Hermione?" he smirked, specifically not inviting her to use his name.

"Yes," she replied, a smile lurking at the edge of her mouth. "I'd like you to go talk to Fred about his weapon development- see if a new brain could help. You were always great with charms, it could improve their product. I'll be along in a few hours to check up."

"We'll be in the basement, then." Draco replied. He made to walk out, but stalled by the door. "You should know that the last portkey didn't arrive properly. It was set to activate at ten after the hour, but it never got here."

"Shit," grimaced Hermione. "Go on and help Fred. I'll take care of that."

Her compulsive note-taking was put aside for the time being.

Severus had their phone, so he was sought out. When she found him, he was sitting at the dining room table, several books spread around him and a quill in his hand.

"We've a problem," relayed Hermione breathlessly. "I need you to try all the phones that aren't here. Katie, Bill and Ron didn't come with their portkey."

"Immediately." he answered, setting aside his quill. "Who has them right now?"

"You call Bill, Ron, Molly and Percy. I'll use Draco's and call Andromeda, Tonks and George."

He set to dialing, already immersed in his task as Hermione rushed out of the room to find Draco. He gave it to her without a question and she dialed Tonks by heart.

"Alexandrite! Where do I like best at the Grim Place?" Hermione asked. "Right...Peacock feathers. Have you heard from Ron's portkey group? When? They didn't make it here. Go ahead and activate your portkey ahead of schedule and get here."

She punched the end button more fiercely than she had to and dialed Andromeda. "What was Sirius' chosen middle name? Right...Yellow. Have you heard from Bill, Ron or Katie? Their portkey didn't make it here," she explained. "Do you know exactly where they were headed?"

"Draco, paper!" Hermione snapped. He did as she asked, fetching them from Severus in the dining room at a run.

"Yeah, I'm ready, Quartz," said Hermione, quill poised. She scratched for a moment, leaving the indelible impression of an address.

Conwy Castle

5 Rose Hill St.

Conwy, Wales

"Thank you," Hermione said, laying down her quill. "I want all of you to take your portkey as soon as you're all together...You've got Fools Gold and Ametrine there? Wait for your fourth, get out. Got it?"

She punched the end button, this time not as violently and rapidly left the kitchen, parchment in hand. "Did you figure anything out?" she asked Severus, grasping the back of the chair beside him.

"Citrine told me that Bill and Ronald went with Miss Bell to look for a Horcrux. He didn't know where."

"Andromeda was able to give me the address of the place that they were looking, but she didn't know if they were still there," she mused. "Call Citrine and whomever else you spoke with and tell them to get here ahysap."

Severus glanced left and right before putting his hand on top of Hermione's. "They'll be fine. Probably just missed the signal."

"I hope to anything up there you're right," Hermione shivered.

In the space of the next two hours, the rest of the order filtered in slowly, three or four at a time. Lee Jordan was put to work with Fred and Draco in the kitchen and George was sent when he arrived forty minutes later. Hannah and Parvati began work in the kitchen to feed the force lunch while Padma, Andromeda and Narcissa began brewing ubiquitous healing potions and salves in the cellar while Severus worked on the more esoteric, including his eponymous Severian Healing Salve. When Ginny, Neville and Fleur arrived, they were told and Fleur was promptly drugged into a calm stupor and left to play with a chess set missing two pawns and a rook by herself. Ginny worked on sizing the uniforms (a kind of greenish-grey khaki pair of trousers and black button up tops) and adding all the protective charms and spells she could think of.

The hive was busy, but all minds were on their brothers-at-arms across the ocean.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione stood in the doorway, looking out across the sea of faces, upturned to her. This was her army, but this was their fight. She felt a renewed sense of placement and if she had believed in spirits, she would have said that Harry was with her, gently pushing her forward to take charge.

She noticed that the people she considered her lieutenants were sitting somehow different from the rest: Ginny sat calmly at one end of a loveseat, Tonks on her other side, Severus stood near the door into the kitchen, in the shadows with his arms crossed. Draco took a chair near Neville, strangely, who leaned against the fireplace mantle with a strange nonchalance. The others chose chairs and sofas, but many sat on the ground.

"I call this session of the Order of the Phoenix to order," said Hermione softly, barely audible over the noise of the quiet chatter.

The Order snapped to attention, their eyes riveted to Hermione as she very slowly paced back and forth in the wide entry to the sitting room.

"Priority number one has been and will always be finishing Tom Riddle," she pronounced. "In that first priority, we have two sub-objectives: first, destroy Ravenclaw's horcrux and secondly, when one of more of us encounters Nagini, our only objective is to destroy that snake. Our second priority is to keep one another alive. We now have a side mission that calls on that promise. Three of our comrades have gone missing."

This was not new to the group, but their terror-stricken eyes were wide as if it were the first time they'd heard. Only Severus managed to look unaffected.

"Bill Weasley, Ronald Weasley and Katie Bell were last seen searching for Ravenclaw's Diadem at the site of her ancestral home, Conwy Castle in Wales," Hermione continued, ceasing her pacing in the dead center of the doorway. "I would like to take volunteers for this mission."

One hand flew up first, that of Molly Weasley. "Those are my children," she pleaded, Arthur putting his arm around her soft shoulders.

Hermione softened her stance to address the Weasley matron. "I understand, Molly," she replied quietly. "But I need people who are as clear-headed as possible- it would be impossible to be that with two of your sons missing. Be strong, here, for your other children."

Molly began to cry softly into her husband's arm, almost muffling Draco's tentative offer to volunteer.

"Thank you, Draco," Hermione said. Most of the rest of the Order put up their hands, but Hermione quickly dismissed her Gryffindor roommate, Parvati, her twin sister (and Ron's girlfriend) Padma and George Weasley.

Hermione was shocked into silence for a moment when she saw that the whole group would be willing to go with her to retrieve their missing brothers-at-arms.

"Right then. I'm going to head up one group, Tonks, I'd like you to head the other," delegated Hermione. She thought she saw a brief scowl cross Severus' face when she named Tonks, but that could have been just her imagination. "Luna, Charlie and Neville, I want you to go with Tonks. Draco, Snape and Ginny, you're with me."

The teams looked at each other appraising, as if to cement their bond. "I request one hour's time to prepare the squadrons," Tonks asked officially, standing to face Hermione, her back straight and her hands at the side. Her Auror training was showing through- Hermione would have much to learn from her- about how soldiers and commanders interacted.

"At ease," Hermione replied, remembering the war movies of her childhood and hoped it was the same in both worlds. Tonks relaxed her stance and Hermione was immediately grateful- even if it wasn't right, Tonks was a damn fine soldier. "Permission granted for one hour's stay. I would like to see you straight away."

Tonks nodded and sat again.

"I need Narcissa, Andromeda and Padma to prepare three emergency resuscitation packs, in case of severe trauma," Hermione said. "You're dismissed."

The three women skittered to the cellar as if called there by a siren.

"Fred, Lee and George, I need to see what you have for me immediately after my conference with Tonks," nodding at the three in the corner, they left as well, looking more sober than she'd ever seen them.

Hermione turned her attention to Ernie: "I need you to get me blueprints on Conwy Castle and possible entrance points as soon as you can. Interrupt me if I'm busy."

"The rest of you lot, I want you to do any preparations you need for the rest of the hour."

Turning on her heel, she walked out of the room, hopefully as authoritatively as she meant. Tonks met her at the door to Hermione's private room only moments later. Hermione gestured her inside and they made themselves comfortable on the chair and bed.

"Blimey, Hermione," gushed Tonks. "You were bloody brilliant!"

Hermione smiled a touch, worrying the hem of her blouse between her fingers. "Thanks. I tried. I need your help, though, later when this mission is over, to figure out what exactly to do as their commander."

"You're doing fine," reassured the pink-haired Auror. "But we'll talk more when we're back here, safe and sound."

As Hermione nodded, a great crash sounded from the kitchen. The two women were up and out of their chairs before anyone else was in the room.

There, on the floor, beside the now broken sliding glass door was Bill Weasley.

On a broom.

"Bill!" Hermione yelled. "Are you all right?"

Tonks was already yelling down the stairs: "Padma, we need you up here pronto!"

He looked vaguely sheepish, but more fierce than she had ever seen the oldest Weasley. "I've been flying for a while. I guess I didn't account for the glass when I got here."

His long hair was badly windswept and his face completely red from the cold and wind. Aside from a shard of glass that sliced open his jacket and his skin underneath and several slivers in his cheeks, Bill looked to be in fine shape.

"Where are they?" Hermione demanded. "Ron and Katie?"

Bill began to get up off the floor, but Padma, who was just bounding into the room pushed him back down. "Last I saw them, they were at Conwy Castle, in the upper levels."

"Tonks, I need both teams, now." Hermione snapped, not even looking over her shoulder.

"We got to Conwy early this morning, and our portkey wasn't scheduled for over seven hours, so we went ahead and set off for the castle," Bill said, wincing as Padma began seamlessly putting the flesh of his arm back together. "We were ambushed in the upper levels of the bailey- Ron and Katie were taken by Dolohov and Rowle, Mulciber took me. I played like I had lost my wand to him for a while, but when we got near to the entrance of the castle, I pulled out my spare and I stunned him and fled."

"Why did you run?" Hermione asked, not unkindly.

Bill glared, but it could have been at the glass being removed from his face. "I got to the top of the hill, disillusioned, so that I could see the lay of the land to plan my rescue attempt. I didn't have a phone, Ron had it, and I didn't know where to get one, let alone your number. When I saw seven more of their guys get there, I knew I was outnumbered. I apparated to the farthest place I could visualize: New York City, then I asked for directions to Cincinnati and this address, which I had stuffed into my pocket. They need help."

"We've already mobilized. Are you up to taking us back to Conwy?" Hermione asked, helping him to stand.

He nodded once. "Get me some pepper-up and let me get warm again and I'm good to go."

"Fleur knew something was wrong all morning," Hermione said, beginning to fret. "No use now. I want you to replace Neville on Tonk's squad."

"I'll tell him," Tonks said, taking the hint and going to find him.

"I need to talk to the twins and Lee," explained Hermione. "You find Ginny and get a uniform."

Bill nodded, putting his large hand on Hermione's shoulder for a moment wordlessly.

"Padma, cancel one of the resuscitation packs," ordered Hermione, turning and heading towards the stairs to find her weapons masters.

She indeed found them in their attic bedroom, sorting out items on the floor.

"Ah, Hermione, glad you could make it," said George, the one without the ear.

Fred continued, "We've been expecting you."

"What do you have?" she replied, kneeling on the carpet to look through their wares.

Lee picked up a large plastic bag: "Peruvian instant darkness powder. Very handy in a jam."

"Freeze Tag ice-balls," George said, pointing to a pile of pale gray spheres. "Thrown one and make a hit and your opponent will be frozen in place for up to ten seconds, or long enough to nab their arse."

Fred pointed to the next item, a bucket of mysterious looking gelatin. "This we lovingly call "Goo". Put it on the floor behind you and your victim is stuck in place until..."

"Well, we're not quite sure," supplied George. "We've only had success taking off their shoes and carrying the victim away under the incarcerus enchantment."

Hermione nodded, good enough.

"We also have these," Lee said, showing Hermione a handful of small glass marbles. "We call them boggart-bombs."

"Inside each is a miniature boggart, which will assume the shape, obviously, of the victim's worst nightmare," Fred explained. "One only need press in the two tiny buttons on each side of the marble with their thumb and forefinger before smashing it on the ground at their victim's feet."

Hermione goggled. "That is amazing."

"With the use of a bubble-head charm, you'll be able to apprehend your enemy- just don't breathe in." George told her.

"Last, but not least: I give you the butterfly of certain pain," Fred opened his hand to show her a small ceramic-looking butterfly.

"Ouch," said Lee, absently protecting his groin. "They take flight when they leave your hand and heat seek to the nearest unfamiliar body and then sting repeatedly."

"In the nads," Fred laughed.

George warned, "You just need to pass the butterflies around within the team going on the rescue so that no one is inadvertently stung."

Lee opened up a large drawstring bag, containing a dozen butterflies. "Just get your hand in there real good, move it around, touch all the butterflies."

Hermione did so, their wings making a pleasantly deep chiming as they hit against one another. "Take those down to the others," she told Lee. "I'll help separate these for each person."

When he had left, Hermione addressed Fred and George. "How much can we give each person."

They glanced at each other, and George spoke for them both. "Enough instant dark for two uses each, a half dozen ice-balls, more or less if someone is a good shot- Ginny should have two dozen, she can hit anything. Oh yeah, two uses worth of "goo", three or four boggart-bombs and two butterflies apiece."

"Sounds great, guys," replied Hermione. "Can you get these into containers that can be strapped to the chest or belt?"

"Yeah, should be able to," Fred said. "Send up Mrs. Malfoy and she can do the cloth-binding charms for us."

Hermione was already at the door by this time. "Thanks, she'll be right up."

Ernie caught Hermione as she came to the second floor landing. "Got the map," he said, ushering her down the stairs and into the dining room.

"Hannah, go replace Narcissa with the brewing," Hermione told the blonde woman as she passed her in the kitchen. "She's needed on the third floor with the twins."

"All right, Hermione," Hannah replied, stopping what she was engaged in to go down into the cellar.

The map was laid out on the table in great detail. Hermione immediately noted the huge rock that Conwy was built upon, seemingly springing forth from it directly. Huge curtain walls and eight round towers protected the inner bailey.

"It's in near ruin," said Bill from over Hermione's shoulder. "But strong still."

"Can we get in by the drawbridge?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows.

As Lee Jordan passed by, he heard their conundrum. "We've got an item developed," he began, "that allows one to walk up walls, courtesy of special pads that are adhered to the bottoms of your shoes."

"Go get someone who isn't in use and test them," Hermione said. "Make sure they'll go up stone."

Lee left, dragging Parvati Patil, who had just come up from the cellar, with him to the sitting room.

"If they work," Bill remarked, "We can simply go up and over on opposite sides of the fortress."

"That's what I'm thinking," Hermione said. "Or, how many brooms do we have in our stock?"

Bill looked thoughtful. "I'll find Charlie and figure it out."

He left, leaving Hermione to her contemplation of the map, her fingertip tracing lines and patterns through the halls that were indiscernible to the clueless viewer.

"Get Snape, Ernie, please," Hermione asked quietly, her fingers and eyes never straying from the map.

She smelled him before she heard his steps or his breathing behind her, his rich, almost- spicy cloves and balsam scent.

"What do you think of having Tonks breach here, between the north-west tower and the kitchen tower and my team here," she asked, pointing to two weak-looking areas of the outer structure.

He contemplated for several long moments, his face bent near to the table. "Let Tonks enter there where she was, but I think your team should enter here, at the East Barbican and come straight up from the river here, where it looks like there's a flight of stairs down."

Hermione bit at her lip, tracing routes with both hands. "I would imagine that Ron and Katie are being kept in the Prison Tower- it's the best preserved and the best fortified. If Riddle is present, where would he be?"

Severus scoffed lightly, pressing his finger to a spot immediately. "In the inner ward, by the Chapel Tower. It is traditionally the Presence Chamber."

"I want Tonk's squad to concentrate on freeing Ron and Katie. Bill is familiar with the castle and they can get out, fast, with Tonks, Charlie and Luna on offense," Hermione said, pulling her finger down off the guard wall, across the outer ward, through the Great Hall and to the Prison Tower.

Letting out a short noise that implied that Severus was considering what to say, Hermione continued. "We'll enter here, where you said, in the East Barbican, go through the chapel which connects immediately to the Presence Chamber."

"You want the four of us to take the Dark Lord head on?" Severus asked, his tone measured and even.

Hermione nodded sharply. "We'll have portkeys to take us back here immediately if I call retreat."

"The hour is up," he said simply. "I'll retrieve the others and meet you in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Hermione said, long after he'd exited the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Charlie rustled up six brooms: the rather weather-beaten Comet 260 that Bill had come in on, a Shooting Star, two Cleansweep Elevens, an ancient Tinderblast and a brand new Lightning Bolt which had been Harry's.

It became quite apparent after very little time that Hermione, as she was leading the squad over the East Barbican, would have to fly a broomstick. If anyone made to say anything, their mouths were quickly sealed by her glare.

Publically, she was given a Cleansweep, a middle-of-the-line broom, with Ginny, the best flyer, on the erratic Shooting Star, Draco begging to be on the Lightning Bolt and Severus seated on Bill's Comet 260. Across Draco's back was a slightly shrunken Cleansweep and Ginny carried the delicate Tinderblast.

Privately, she was going to scale the fortress on Draco's broom, the luxurious Lightning Bolt, in tandem with the Shooting Star on her back while Ginny took the Cleansweep.

"Here," Narcissa said, fidgeting over the fit of the bandoliers slung across all eight soldier's chests. "Wear it down a little lower, Luna."

Andromeda and Padma were swiftly passing out emergency medical kits, explaining what was inside: "Dittany, burn salve, bruise poultice, Blood coagulation draught..." The packs were strapped to the small of their backs and to one side for easy access with a clip over their navels.

George approached them after they were kitted out, a ninth bandolier across his front. "In this compartment," he gestured. "You have your Ice-Balls. Next down is your boggart-bombs, impervious to ridikkulus, followed by the butterflies of death. On your right hip is "Goo" and on your left is instant dark powder.

Parvati held up their next bit of equipment: wand sheaths. "These go on your wrists to hold your spare wands," she said, demonstrating how they strapped at the wrist and below the elbow. A snap outward of your palm will release the wand into your hand."

They strapped them on, flicking their wrists experimentally and finding that their spare wand sprung out in just the right position.

"These are very good, Parvati," Hermione commented. "Could you do the same with a knife attachment?"

"I don't see why not..." she replied, shoving back her ridiculously belled sleeves. Several flicks later, a second attachment was made over the existing one. Hermione unceremoniously drew a bowie knife from her hip and nonchalantly fastened it to her forearm.

She tested it once, the hilt firmly gripped in her fingers as it released. "Feels good," she replied.

Ginny and Draco both gave her a strange look, as if they hadn't actually ever known her. When Ginny glanced the others, though, Bill had taken a wasp-waisted blade out and was letting Parvati secure it, Charlie was waiting, a combat knife in hand and Snape was holding a terrifying-looking stiletto to his side.

"You guys look fierce," Ginny blurted.

Hermione nodded. "I'm not the best with knives I've ever known, but I know how to scratch when cornered."

"My wand is good for me, I think," laughed Tonks nervously.

"It's not for everyone," Charlie added. "But when facing dragons, you want every available weapon at your disposal."

"You have your wall-climber pads?" asked Fred, looking towards Tonks' squad.

She nodded. "They're really awesome. I want to borrow some later to have fun with."

"Any time," George laughed.

"Portkeys?" asked Hermione, looking at Luna.

"These go around your neck," she explained, showing them their portkeys: silk cords with two locket charms on each. "The round one takes you back here. The triangle takes you to the parking lot of Sainte-Antoine Hospital is Paris. Open them up, press your thumb on the inside. Hold on tight."

"Are we ready?" Hermione asked, looking around at the gathered. "You know the objectives. Move out."

Hermione and her team grabbed onto the long kitchen spoon they were using as their portkey just after Tonks'. It activated and began their dizzing cross-planet journey.

They landed hard on the bank of the River Conwy.

"Fuck," Draco swore, falling to his knees. Ginny rather quietly retched into the water and both Hermione and Severus sat down quickly to prevent actually falling.

After several long moments, Hermione stood, her feet grasping for purchase on the rocky riverbank. "Number one, disillusion yourself and your broom."

The others got to their feet one by one, Ginny wiping ferociously at her mouth with the back of her sleeve. They glimmered out of sight swiftly, still listening for Hermione's voice.

"At Tonks' signal, we push off, read me?" Hermione whispered. The rustle of broomsticks was drowned out by the river as they mounted, Hermione grateful that they could not see their commander clinging to her former worst enemy's shoulders.

Suddenly, a lithe wolf came bounding into view, its form blurry and ethereal but obviously Tonks' patronus.

"Liftoff!" Hermione cried. They rocketed into the air and she almost let out a startled shriek as they began their journey up and over the ancient walls.

Draco patted one of Hermione's gloved hands, "I've got you," he whispered, the barest hint of a smile in his voice.

The flight was extremely short, and for that Hermione was grateful, and even more so when they gently touched down atop the high wall of the East Barbican. Dismounting with Draco's hand in hers to steady, they took a survey of their surroundings.

Behind them was the river they landed by, churning gently in the crisp night. Ahead of them were a pair of steps, leading down into the barbican itself, with a stone entryway into the inner ward, where Severus had said the presence chamber would be.

"Right," Hermione said. "Finite Incantatum."

The four shimmered into their respective shapes, identical in their dark uniforms. "Ginny, Draco: you follow the wall and enter the chapel tower from the upper floor. Snape and I are going to enter the inner ward from the Barbican. Tonk's Squad will make their diversion and hopefully, those around Riddle will answer the distress signal," she said lowly, breathing heavily. "I will take the first shot. Do not enter the presence chamber from the Chapel until you have seen my shot."

They nodded, Ginny and Draco moving together towards the chapel. "Be safe," Ginny whispered, her hair whipping behind her in the wind as they trod over the uneven battlements and out of sight.

Without speaking, Severus took the lead, quietly and swiftly descending the ancient stairs and across the grass to the entrance of the inner ward.

"Animadverto penitus," Hermione whispered. The gritty, dark stone wall seemed to melt into glass, blurring and swirling at the edges of the enchantment.

"MacNair," Severus pointed. "Mulciber, Selwyn, Avery, Alecto Carrow. Theo Nott."

Hermione considered. "We'll take the ones on the left, then: Avery, Carrow and Nott."

"Avery and Carrow only. Nott, as I have been informed, is reluctant and might be persuaded to come over," Severus replied, ending the enchantment.

"Excellent," said Hermione, inching across the courtyard to the archway. "We always need more men."

In the sky, two showers of sparks went up: one red and one green. "Two guards: one a Death Eater, one loyal to the Order," Hermione translated. "Thank you, God."

"Likely Lucius," Severus said, taking point guard as Hermione slipped into the inner ward.

"Stay in the courtyard," Hermione hissed, throwing up two notice-me-not charms.

An explosion shook the castle to its foundation, small shards of rock falling from the walls and pebbles bouncing at their feet.

A high, angry voice came from the presence chamber. "Find out what that wasss," he commanded. "Mulsssiber, Avery and Ssselwyn."

Three men scampered from the presence chamber in dark robes. "Now!" Hermione whispered. Grabbing onto one of Hermione's hands, with his other Severus threw a handful of instant darkness into the corridor. "The ice-bombs!"

They heard small shattering noises as they landed and the rustling and shouting stopped dead in the corridor. "I'll take point," Severus said, pulling her along the pitch-black wall wall until her finger gripped around the edge of the doorway. They could see inside, and Hermione studied Voldemort intensely where he sat.

The only one seated, he reclined in a high-backed wooden chair with Carrow, MacNair and Nott standing around him. Nagini was curled on his lap, her head up and her tongue gently flicking at the doorway.

A moment of sheer panic overtook Hermione as Nagini slithered down from Riddle's lap, his pale, skeletal hand caressing her back as she went. The instant-dark was beginning to recede, but Hermione saw Severus on the other side of the doorway, moving and binding Mulciber, Avery and Selwyn against the wall. As he performed the memory-modification charms and porkeyed them away wandless, Hermione reached into her front pocket, knowing what she had to to next, her eyes trained on the snake.

Her sweaty hand clasped around the item that Charlie Weasley had sent to her, a six inch long Romanian Longhorn spike- potent enough to destroy a horcrux.

"Fire the first shot," Hermione murmured with more calm than she imagined she would possess. "I'm going to take care of Nagini."

Snape nodded, pushed back his sleeves to reveal where his mark had been and crouched by the door, ready to fire once Nagini had cleared the door.

Hermione's heart beat furiously, the spike in her hand warming to her touch. Slowly, slowly Nagini turned the corner toward Hermione, her tongue flicking but unaware of her presence against the wall.

Taking a final deep, calming breath, Hermione lunged at the snake, her knees scraping against the rough floor roughly. "Now!" She whispered fiercely, wrapping her hands around Nagini as best she could, just below the head.

"Incarcerus!" Hermione bellowed as the snake began writhing powerfully, slamming her back against the stone wall. The ropes which flew out of Hermione's wand landed uselessly and limply on Nagini's back. She bounded up, letting the snake go, and dodged to the other wall.

She cut her wand through the air again, "Obscuro!" A blindfold did appear over Nagini's eyes and she began to thrash wildly, giving Hermione the opportunity to shoot several hexes at the men fighting in the room.

A red spell and then a purple bounced into the corridor, narrowly missing Hermione. She shot an impedimenta and a locomotor mortis into the chamber, nearly at random.

"That's it!" she yelled, training her wand on Nagini. "Locomotor Mortis!"

The leg-locking curse did the trick, stiffening the vertebrae all along the snake's body. Hefting the snake onto it's back, Hermione felt for the heartbeat two hands length down from the throat. After she located it, without thinking, she plunged the spike through the tough, leathery skin.

Hermione screamed, the spike beginning to burn as it worked its way through Nagini's body, blood spilling out over her clothes and down her arms, suddenly turning black as it spurted, and thick, like oil.

Suddenly, it slowed, the erratic pumping finally ceasing. Nagini became cold and grayish in color and Hermione knew that she had destroyed the horcrux inside the snake.

Severus chose that moment to dash out of the presence chamber, Nott hot on his trail.

"Get him!" Riddle screeched from inside.

Nott hadn't noticed Hermione on the other side of the door, banishing Nagini's remains. As she ran after the two men, a sudden cold dread washed over Hermione from behind. Following her was Voldemort.

His red eyes locked onto Hermione's as she sprinted, with her head swiveled round, into the outer ward where Severus and Nott had dissappeared. On the highest tower, she spotted Draco, Tonks, Charlie and Bill poised for aerial backup.

Voldemort moved slowly, twitching his hairless head from right to left in a jerking, disconcerting manner, his dark gray robes trailing the ground around his feet as though he was incongruously gliding across the ground.

Hot fear bubbled up in Hermione's throat and she swallowed, allowing herself to be backed into the open by the tall, terrifying man approaching her.

"I ssee you have come for your friendsss," he whispered, a demented grin splitting his lipless mouth.

Tonks shouted from behind Hermione. "And we've got them!"

A cheer broke out from the tower. "You've got two of them," Voldemort conceded, drawing his wand. "But where is your boy that lived?"

Knowing she would likely be dead in moments, Hermione mustered all the cheek she could find. "He's safe," she spit at him. "And somehow, I doubt you know where."

He laughed again, a high, humorless shriek. "But he'ss dead! Ssurely you know that!"

"I think this name will strike fear into the place where your heart should be, Tom," Hermione taunted. A pair of dark shadows skipped across the outer ward behind Riddle, skirting the walls and coming round to Hermione's left.

"And that would be the name of the filthy mudblood Hermione Granger?" laughing again, he delicately picked his wand from his side pocket.

Hermione tossed her head defiantly, "Neville Longbottom," she whispered. "I'm sure you know about him- and that prophecy."

Riddle was silent and breathing through his mouth. Hermione had his full attention.

Laughing, Hermione continued. "Or did you not know the rest of the prophecy? The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born as the seventh month dies...born to those who have thrice defied him...You know all that...but what about the last part? What about...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he shall have power that the Dark Lord knows not...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord?"

Carefully omitting the very last portion of the prophecy, she continued. "Neville Longbottom was who the prophecy was talking about all along. Why are you not immortal? You wasted everything on the wrong person..."

Quiet still, Riddle began to seethe, jerking his head again. "Legillimens."

Running with Harry through the Forest with Fang.

Her third birthday- given a pink Barbie car.

Her wand choosing her.

The prophecy, as heard from the record itself...'but he shall have power that the Dark Lord knows not...

Riddle ripped himself from her mind, leaving her gasping and with an excruciating head.

"Go on, then," Hermione goaded. "Mark him as your equal: poor, stupid, Neville Longbottom. Mark him so that we can use him to kill you."

"You lie..." Riddle hissed.

"You know I do not," shot back Hermione. "Do it. Mark him!"

Suddenly, the sky seemed to swirl darker above them as if it sensed the Dark Lord's wrath. Those in the tower seemed to cower backwards, although they were still poised to fire. He turned his palms upward to the sky, fingers tensed and screamed, the skin on his face stretching awkwardly over his sunken cheeks and down his freakishly wide open mouth.

"Nott!" He yelled. "I know you are here!"

Severus stepped from the shadows, his wand to Nott's throat. "Master," he addressed Voldemort coolly.

"You will be witnessss, Nott, to my unbreakable vow," Riddle sneered, his eyes still trained against Hermione's brown ones.

"Yes, master," Nott mumbled, taking his wand from Severus' outstretched hand.

The Dark Lord grinned maliciously, extending his wand-arm to Hermione. "Miss Granger."

She took his hand boldly, the chill penetrating her very bones. In a moment of opportunism, she dug her nails deep into his forearm, piercing his oddly reptilian skin with a dull popping noise.

"Mudblood bitch!" Voldemort screamed, wrenching away and making to backhand her. She darted out of the way, a touch of blood still clinging to her fingernails. Grasping his arm with his opposite hand, he continued to shout abusements at her, but did release a spell from his wand. "Make this vow, whore, so that I may kill you."

With a sick grin, Hermione held her hand to him this time, the other surrepetiously wiping his blood inside her back pocket. Glancing at Severus, whose wand was still trained on Nott, they made eye contact and she gestured to her bloodied fingers. His eyes lit up in understanding for only a moment, then dulled.

"I, Lord Voldemort," he began, "solemly name Neville Longbottom as my equal."

A lick of flame shot from Nott's wand, binding Hermione to Riddle.

"Do you, Tom Riddle," she asked, "name Neville Longbottom as your equal?"

"I do," he hissed, a grin splitting his face again as a second flame joined the first.

Hermione spoke again: "And do you, Tom Riddle, vow to try to destroy Neville Longbottom?"

"I vow to destroy Neville Longbottom," he replied.

With a glance from Hermione, Nott intoned the binding. "And thus you are bound."

The flames formed chains for a split moment, then disappeared.

"I did not vow not to kill you, mudblood," Voldemort whispered cruelly, holding her hand tight in his. Her eyes went wide with fear.

"Expelliarmus!" Severus shouted, holding out his hand for Voldemort's wand. In the still of the night, it became more calm, eerily so, as nothing happened.

Riddle laughed again, throwing his head to the sky in glee. "You think your petty spells will work on Lord Voldemort?"

A barrage rained from the tower, each extinguishing as limply as the other had.

Jerking Hermione close to his chest, her hand falling forward to catch herself on his sleeve, he breathed in her scent. "You reek of fear," he whispered. "Try defeating me now."

Their eyes locked, Hermione discreetly whispered her fingers up to her locket, flicking it open with her fingernail.

"Oh, I promise you," she spat back at him, her nose only centimeters from his. "I will."

With that final word, she pressed her thumbprint to the interior of the locket.


	14. Chapter 14

She landed hard on her knees on the rug in the sitting room of the Fake Colonial.

"Water," Hermione choked, laying down on her side, her face half-buried in the carpet. In a haze, she saw someone go for the kitchen.

The air cracked six more times in a disjointed rhythm.

Through the din, she heard Tonks shout, "No casualties!"

"Something's wrong with Granger," said Draco, kneeling beside her. "What's wrong?"

Draco's face swam in Hermione's vision, oddly clear and sharp then suddenly he was merely a blur of pale skin, silvery-blonde hair and eyebrows. "Feel funny," she whispered, closing her eyes against the swirling.

"She's experiencing a magical drainage from facilitating the unbreakable vow," Severus said from very near her. Hermione opened her eyes blearily to see him, his unfamiliar face swimming into focus. Lifting a hand weakly towards him, she tried to speak again but was overcome with the overwhelming weariness.

Her hand fell back to the carpet.

Snape began barking orders. "I need a vial of valerian, one of chamomile and a draught of peace. Dreamless sleep."

More blurs.

Hands, lifting. Warm. "Bed."

Through the kitchen. Cup of tea? Voldemort.

Balsam and cloves. Snuggle. Bed.

Dark room. Candle. Voldemort.

Mmm, Ginny is warm. On her left?

Green liquid. Yellow liquid. Blue liquid.

Tastes like sawdust.

Oblivion.

When Hermione woke next, the sky was (still?) dark and Fred Weasley sat in the chair at her desk reading a comic book.

She groaned, gaining his attention.

"You awake, 'Mione?" Fred asked, putting aside his book.

Opening and closing her eyes a few times experimentally, she rolled her neck and heard a few pops. "What happened?"

"Spell exhaustion," he told her. "From making a wicked unbreakable vow with you-know-who!"

Hermione groaned again. "Yeah. Call it flying from the seat of my pants."

"I'd better go tell the Professor you're awake," replied Fred, making his way to the door.

"What time is it? What day?" Hermione asked, rubbing at her eyes.

Fred paused at the door, his hand on the shiny brass knob. "It's nine in the evening. On New Years' Day."

"I've been out for two whole days?" Hermione cried, making to throw back the covers.

Fred rushed back over, pushing her back onto the pillows. "Professor Snape said he'd have my bollocks if you got out of bed. Sorry."

He left, leaving Hermione to fume. She'd been out of commission for two days! Why didn't someone wake her up! There was work to be done!

There was a glass of water on the desk, which she reached for and drank greedily.

"I see you're finally awake," said Snape from the doorway, almost cheekily.

Hermione glared. "Why didn't you do something? Wake me up? It's a simple ennerverate."

"Spell exhaustion is just that. Exhaustion," He replied, closing the door and coming to sit on the bed beside her.

She closed her eyes, feeling suddenly weak again. "You'll need to stay in bed for another day."

Brown eyes shot open. "Can't."

"Can and will," Severus growled. "I'll pin you here myself if I have to."

"Please?" she asked playfully, opening her eyes a fraction.

He scowled more fiercely. "Pearl,"

Ignoring him, she continued. "What has happened the last two days?"

"We have Theodore Nott here under supervision. He will be released to Lucius Malfoy tomorrow." He replied, measuring out several doses of potion.

"Is he able to be used?" asked Hermione, taking the first without asking what it was. She winced; it tasted like asphalt.

Severus nodded, beginning another set of dosages. "He is."

Hermione threw back the covers down to her knees. "Has Neville been briefed?"

Nodding, Snape stoppered one of the bottles. "He has been aware that this was a possibility since Potter's death. He took it well."

"Did you get the blood from my trousers?" Hermione asked, suddenly remembering and looking for them.

"I did," he replied. "Stupid girl, you could have gotten yourself killed."

"Was there enough for a sample?" Hermione demanded, swallowing the second potion and drinking another long draught of water.

Severus nodded. "There was, but I won't have any conclusive findings until tomorrow evening."

"Who did we get from their side?"

"Mulciber, Avery and Selwyn have been nuetralized," he said, handing her the third vial, a peachy-colored syrup. "Alecto Carrow dead, MacNair injured, probably not fatally. Jugson, the other guard, was taken out by Tonks' Squadron."

"Any injuries on our side?" asked Hermione, taking the last two: the yellow one was pleasant-ish, and tasted faintly of almonds and grass, the other, a dark blue was strong and acidic, burning her way down her throat.

"Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood sustained minimal injuries," Severus said, handing Hermione the glass of water. "Miss Bell was dehydrated and several bones were broken, but she's doing well."

"And Ron?" Hermione pressed.

Snape hesitated. "He's in rather poor condition."

"What's the problem?" demanded Hermione.

Putting the bottles of potion back in the canvas bag they were carried in, Snape paused to figure out how to word it. "When we got to him, he was stable and in the same condition as Miss Bell. However, upon observation, it seems that when his ribs were broken, a small shard exited and lodged itself in his lung."

"What has been tried?" asked Hermione, already mentally running through all the medicinal spells and potions she could think of.

"Everything I can think of," Severus said quietly. "I have Miss Weasley and Miss Delacoeur researching as we speak."

"Bring me books," Hermione ordered. "I'll stay in bed, but I want to help."

He nodded. "I knew you would say that."

"And after I eat something, I want to see him," said Hermione. "I don't care if you have to levitate me there."

"What about staying in bed?" Severus scoffed, running his fingers along her forehead in an intimate, comforting gesture.

Hermione smiled. "Didn't you expect that?'

"To assess his condition only," Snape replied, giving a small half-smile. "Then its bed for you until this time tomorrow."

"Tomorrow morning," said Hermione. "I'll sleep through the night, but I'm out of bed in the morning."

Severus frowned, "Until tea time tomorrow."

"Lunch and that's my final offer." She smiled.

He nodded once. "I'll get you some dinner."

"Get Ginny to bring books to me!" she shouted against his retreating back. When he gave no answer, she shrugged, grasping at her beaded bag on the table and pulling out three heavy-looking musty-smelling books.

"Perfect," she muttered, tracing the words on the cover of the first. "Gruesome Injuries and Their Remedies."

Severus came back into the room several minutes later, but found Hermione so absorbed cross referencing the Journal of Emergency Medicine, General Thoractic Surgery and Gruesome Injuries and Their Remedies, that he was unable to gain her attention when putting a plate of sandwiches and grapes on the desk beside her.

Two hours late, when he came to check to see that she had indeed eaten, he found her drawing a large cross-section of the lung on the wall beside the bed, highlighting the possible areas of extraction.

"What exactly are you doing?" Severus asked, pushing the plate of food under her nose.

She shrugged. "I had a marker. Voila, improvisational chalk board."

"And what have you found?" He asked, pushing a reddish-purple grape past her lips.

Chewing, then swallowing, she answered, "Until I see him, I won't know for sure. I think it'll probably have to be done the muggle way. It's highly dangerous to de-bone the chest cavity, especially if the lung has sustained severe trauma."

"Could you fix it?" Severus asked, putting another grape in her mouth.

She shook her head. "I could take care of any subcutaneous emphysema, which there probably is, with little difficulty. That will help. I can even take care of any empyema in the-"

"Stop," Severus said. "Eat."

Hermione nodded her head, taking a large bite out of a turkey and cheese sandwich.

"Now tell me what these things mean," he continued, tearing a bit of parchment from her sheaf. "I mean to assist."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, wiping her mouth of crumbs. "It's going to be really, really gross."

He laughed- really laughed. "Says the woman who cut flesh from arms with a burning surgical instrument."

She scowled, but ignored him. "Subcutaneous emphysema is where air has leaked out of the chest cavity and pooled in the neck, armpits or groin. It is simply needs to be aspirated. We will be able to see the pockets of air when examining."

"Small, raised bumps that move under the fingers?" asked Severus, scrawling on the paper.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Does he have them?"

Snape nodded. "On his lower neck and shoulders."

"And no one figured out what they were?" Hermione asked quietly, chewing.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Wizards don't commonly face problems where that kind of reaction happens."

"Idiots," Hermione raged. "Are wizards intent on being archaic, naive fuckwads?"

"I'm not familiar with your use of the word 'fuckwad', but archaic and naive, yes," replied Snape. "Tell me about empyema."

"It's a condition when after the lungs are injured, pus builds up in the thoractic cavity. It as well needs aspirated, but it a far more invasive procedure. One must insert a tube to express the pus."

Severus made a face, to which Hermione retorted. "I told you it was not pretty. I'll need more anti-nausea medication."

"Right," he replied. "What equipment do you need?"

"To aspirate the subcutaneous emphysema, I need tuburculin syringes, lots and lots of medical-grade alcohol, gauze and neosporin," Hermione rattled. Severus began a list. "For the empyema, I need a stethoscope, catheter tubing, two IV bags of fluid, IV needles and tubing, a scalpel and two retractors: lung and vertical. Catch all that?"

He nodded, still writing. "Eat the rest of your sandwich and you can go examine Mr. Weasley."

"You know we might have to go and kidnap a healer, don't you?" Hermione asked, drinking a long sip of water, her eyes trained on him over the rim of the glass.

Nodding once, he said. "I thought that might be the case. You can send Garnet, Cinnabar and Carnelian. They work well together."

"I suppose I'm going to have to give up control somewhere," Hermione sighed. "Might as well be with those I trust."

Severus took her copy of Gruesome Injuries and began flipping through it after taking a sandwich half from her tray. Hermione ate slowly and steadily, her stomach readjusting to food after three days.

"Help me up?" Hermione asked, brushing her front off. "I'd like to dress."

Giving her a look, Snape extended his hands to her, stabilizing her shaking forearms as she swung her legs around to the side.

"What am I wearing?" Hermione asked, grasping Severus' shoulders as he feet landed on the carpet.

"One of the Miss Patils lent you a pair of pajamas," Snape whispered in her ear, pushing the fallen strap of her singlet back onto her shoulder. "I must say, you look quite lovely in pink."

"Was that a joke?" Hermione laughed, rubbing her hands up and down her cold arms. She selected a warm, cream-colored pullover jumper and a pair of denims from her wardrobe and laid them on the bed.

"It becomes you," he replied. "Although, I must say that the hearts are a bit garish."

She was winded by the time she had finished with her denims, and had her eyes closed as she leaned against the bed, mustering the will to put her shoes on.

"Here," said Severus. "Sit back."

She did, letting her head loll forward as he helped her with her socks and slip on shoes.

"Thank you," Hermione said, resting her fingers lightly on the side of Severus' face. "I feel like I need to be presentable when I come out of this room. Dumbledore always was. Harry was a boy- it didn't matter if he had crusties in his eyes. I'm a woman."

Snape said nothing, only stood and opened the door for her. "Do you think you can make it to the sitting room?" he asked. "Ronald is in his parent's bedroom."

"I'll be fine. Thank you," Hermione replied, making for the door. "But come with me, please. I don't want to be passing out in front of everyone."

Severus nodded, following her from the bedroom, through the kitchen and to the bedroom where Ron was recovering.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat; he looked ghastly. His breathing was uneven and ragged, his lips tinged a pale blue and his throat and chest were swollen with emphysema. "Oh, Ron," she whispered, sitting by his side. "You silly boy, getting into trouble..."

He cracked his eyes as he felt her take his hand. "Miii..." he wheezed.

"Don't speak, you daft cow," Hermione chastised. "Good news is I've figured out what's wrong with you and how to fix it!"

Ron managed to look a little happy. Hermione took his temperature, which was highly elevated, and his heart rate and blood-pressure, which were all, thankfully, near normal.

Severus cast a spell so that Hermione could see exactly what they were working with and they examined the site carefully.

"So, Ron," Hermione said. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

Ron scowled.

"Right-o, the good news. You're going to be fine- the subcutaneous emphysema is easily treatable, the empyema is not as severe as I worried and that bone shard will come out with a well placed charm and a healing draught."

His face changed, as much as one's expressions could change while mostly unconscious.

"The bad news is that I'm going to have to do the procedure for the emphysema and the empyema," Hermione relayed.

"And who will do the bone retrieving?" asked Severus, almost boredly.

Hermione bit at her lip. "Ginny's the best at charms I know. I want her to do it."

Ron made a screaming noise, although it was very muffled, then at Hermione's glare, he laid his head back on the soft white pillows and resumed toying with the seams on the yellow and blue quilt over him.

Severus turned Hermione away from their patient. "I've already spoken to Miss Weasley and Narcissa. I believe they will be competent."

Hermione nodded, looking around the room at the cozy surroundings and small amount of floor space."We're going to have to get him into the sitting room, I think. It will be easiest to work in there."

"Will it be able to wait until tomorrow when you're stronger?" asked Snape, casting several monitoring charms.

Hermione shook her head. "No, it needed to be done yesterday. They empyema will only build up further the longer we wait."

"May I we speak in private?" asked Snape quietly, gesturing towards the door. Hermione nodded.

"I'll send Padma back in," she said as they left. Ron gave another semi-smile before closing his eyes and relaxing backwards.

Hermione followed Snape back into the sitting room, where he gestured to Ginny Weasley to follow them. She popped up from her chair and excused herself from her conversation with Charlie.

Severus set about making tea on the stove while Hermione sank into a chair heavily.

"I'll just get Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny said, opening the door into the cellar. Severus nodded at her, pulling four ceramic mugs from the cabinet beside the stove.

"How is Ronald?" asked Narcissa, coming up from the cellar looking strangely disheveled.

"Much the same," answered Snape, pouring the tea into four cups. "Still two sugars?"

Narcissa smiled warmly, her dark-circled eyes lighting up for a moment. "Please."

"Miss Weasley?" Snape turned to Ginny, who was putting together a plate of fruit for Hermione.

Setting the slices of apple in front of her friend, she placed her hand reassuringly on the back of Hermione's neck. "Just a little milk."

When the tea was laid out and Hermione had perked up a bit, Snape said, "I believe that Hermione is not well enough to perform the needed actions for Mr. Weasley." Hermione was silenced, her mouth half open, by a death glare. "As I have said before, I would like to suggest that the four of us form the team to address the problems."

Narcissa cleared her throat, centering herself by placing her spoon tidily on the rim of her cup. "I do not know if you are aware, Hermione, that I have attended University and have obtained matriculation within the healing arts."

"I was unaware," Hermione replied. "Your help has been invaluable thus far and I see no reason to not trust this new revelation."

"With Narcissa and Miss Weasley in charge of the procedure," Snape continued, "myself as an extra pair of hands and Hermione dictating and describing, I think that we have a good chance of helping Mr. Weasley onto the road to recovery."

Ginny quipped up, "I think that I've found a localised enough potion to repair the lung damage after the removal of the splinter."

"Might I see the text?" Severus asked, somewhat embarrassed as he plucked his wire-rimmed reading glasses from his front shirt pocket. Sliding them onto the bridge of his still substantial nose, he glanced down the list of ingredients. "This has a high probability of working. Thank you, Miss Weasley."

"Ginny is fine, Professor," replied Ginny, her face about to break open at the rare semi-praise from her taciturn professor.

"Severus, then," he offhandedly replied, not pulling his eyes from the paper, his pen already scratching at the instructions.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, chewing absently on an apple slice with her eyes closed. "Severus, Narcissa, could you start the brewing?" she asked. "And how long is it going to take?"

He frowned, scratching a few more times. "Five or six hours, depending."

"Then get George Weasley to help with the brewing," she dictated. "and have Narcissa get rest. We need her steady hands."

He glanced up at Hermione, his chin partially obscured by the collar of his dark blue shirt. "Who do you want to do the med run?"

Hermione yawned, her jaw popping. As she thought, she pulled up a sock that had fallen around her ankle. "Have Draco go with Neville and Ernie. Nev can drive properly, Ernie's a muggleborn and more likely to figure out the medical supplies and Draco's done a med theft before."

"I'll go find them," Ginny said, standing up. "You go get into bed and I'll come in to check on you when we're done."

"I've gotten your list of medical supplies needed," Narcissa said. "I am unfamiliar with most, but if you will guide us, I am sure that Ronald will be just fine."

Hermione flashed a grateful smile. "Thank you," she replied. "And, Ginny, I'll go to bed, but I do need to speak with Tonks as soon as possible if you'll let her know"

Severus suddenly spoke up although he was still analysing the recipe. "I will make sure Miss Granger gets there. She needs another dose of the valerian."

As they scattered, Snape took hold of Hermione's elbow to help her up. "Was the valerian the one that tasted like asphalt. I'll skip that, if you please."

Opening the door for her, then gently closing it after she had entered her bedroom, he said, "Silly girl, I just wanted a moment to be alone with you. You've rapidly become an addiction."

As she leaned against his warm, firm chest, she sighed as his lips began feathering light kisses down her neck and onto her collarbones. "Into bed," he said, kissing the corner of her lips.

"As nice as it sounds," she laughed, taking off her denims and sweater and pulling on Severus' white shirt, "I'm really not in the proper condition- unless you're into necrophilia."

"Tart," he whispered, pulling back her fluffy white comforter. "Get in."

She was nearly asleep by the time her head hit the pillow, but she still saw him give her a tentative grin from the doorway, a swash of light from the kitchen cutting across his dark body.


	15. Chapter 15

A soft chirping noise brought Hermione out of her deep sleep. As she rolled over, she collided with another body, warm in her bed.

"Severus?" she whispered, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. The body shifted, a slim and decidedly feminine hand snuck out of the covers to turn off the alarm she had set on her wand.

Long red hair gave Hermione her clue as to who was in her bed, and Ginny rolled over to face her, a perplexed look on her face. "Did you just call me Severus?"

Unfortunately for Hermione, Ginny was nearly wide awake. Also unfortunately for her, Hermione blushed a deep crimson. "Are you serious?"

"Ginny, hush!" Hermione pleaded, a smile blooming on her face. She was unable to hide it and slunk down into the coverlet to hide her blushing cheeks.

"You're sleeping with him!" Ginny accused, sitting up in bed and taking the covers with her to pull up around her shoulders.

Groaning, Hermione put her pillow over her eyes. "We've slept in the same bed."

"Don't lie to me," came Ginny's voice, muffled through the layers of padding in her pillow. "At least let me live vicariously."

Her oxygen supply was growing short, forcing Hermione to remove the pillow. "Okay. We had sex."

"You know," replied Ginny, a mischievous glint in her eye momentarily replacing the constant haunted and empty expression there, "I could tell something was different between you two."

Hermione gave her a blank stare. "How? It's not a serious thing- we've only-"

"Only what?" Ginny nearly squealed.

"Done it twice," Hermione finished. "You don't think its weird?"

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "Hermione, you're having sex with a former professor- not a dementor. What did you expect- me to condemn you instantly because he got a little PMS-y over the years?"

"Actually," said Hermione, "I hadn't even gotten to the point where I was thinking about that. I was just enjoying the sex and companionship."

"There's been something going on between you two since you went to Paris to work with him, hasn't there?" Ginny asked, swinging her legs off the bed and putting her feet into slippers.

Hermione considered. "I suppose so- there was always a bit of sexual tension between us, since I left Hogwarts, at least- but it got very heated after the removal of their marks in Paris and the subsequent disastrous journey in Spain."

"When did you do it first?" Ginny asked, shrugging an over-large sweater on, one that Hermione knew to have been Harry's.

Now, this was something Hermione usually wouldn't reveal, but seeing her closest girlfriend standing in her bedroom with her hair around her face and looking so vulnerable in Harry's sweater, she couldn't hold anything back. "At the hotel, after that dinner when you called me. You got it pretty spot on. He was just like, hey, I want to have sex with you, but in a terrifically sultry way. And I was all...right-o!"

"I have to say," Ginny said, batting her eyes at Hermione and making for the door. "You've got taste."

Hermione laughed. "I'll see you in a few minutes in Ron's room."

Most of the house was still asleep as Hermione emerged from her bedroom, still a touch weak but loads better than the night before. It hadn't quite come to six o'clock yet, but Narcissa was at the counter fully dressed in practical muggle clothing, making coffee.

"Morning," Hermione said. "Did you get enough sleep?"

Narcissa looked up from the coffee maker, her eyes less red-rimmed than the night before and her hair a little less messy. "As much as I ever do," she said wryly. "At least I have coffee. Would you like some?"

"Please," Hermione said.

She nodded, taking down another mug from the cabinet and asked pleasantly, "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Much better than last night," Hermione replied, getting down a box of instant oatmeal and a bowl. "Though I expect I will tire easily. Would you like oatmeal?"

"Thank you, yes," the blonde replied, taking a seat at the counter.

As Hermione prepared the oatmeal and got a second bowl for Narcissa, she blurted out the question she had been holding back. "How long have you known Professor Snape?"

Narcissa smiled wryly as she poured the coffee. "I'm three years older than Severus, but he has always been unnaturally mature and stoic. We made friends in my seventh year, mayhaps a little before, when he was fourteen- my, nearly twenty-six years ago. Why do you ask?"

"You seem very comfortable with one another," Hermione said carefully, sitting at the counter.

Nodding, Narcissa passed Hermione her cup of coffee. "He stood up as my male relative during my wedding in the summer of 1978."

"I wasn't born then," Hermione mumbled.

"You should be grateful for that, Hermione," Narcissa smiled, tasting her oatmeal. "Wide-legged, high waisted trousers, polyester jumpsuits, peasant dresses- it was awful."

"I rather like wide-legged trousers," Hermione defended, pleased that Narcissa had moved on from her awkward question.

Narcissa made quite an undignified snort into her oatmeal. "Well, you can wear them- you've got that figure for it- slim hipped and tiny-waisted. Those of us with thighs...well, not so much."

"Like you couldn't wear anything you wanted?" Hermione asked mischievously. Narcissa gave her a look, common from one peer to another.

She sighed theatrically. "Not all of us are gifted with the burden."

Hermione giggled into her coffee cup. "Thanks for the caffeine. I suppose we'll need it. I estimated the full procedure to last around an hour?"

"I thought much the same," she replied, spooning the last of her breakfast into her mouth. "I don't know how long Severus' potion takes to go into effect, but my portion will take around an hour."

Hermione stared into her coffee cup for several long moments, her face impassive and unreadable.

"I hope you don't mind," Narcissa continued, "but I've taken the liberty of transfiguring some of your tea-towels into surgical aprons."

Nodding, Hermione said, "Very useful. While doing Draco's mark-removal I ruined my nice white button up shirt."

Narcissa blanched, staring down at her long, elegant fingers on the dark blue and white flecked granite counter top.

"He bled blue, if that's what you're worried about," Hermione joked, tentatively placing her hand over Draco's Mother's.

She didn't catch the reference to blue bloods, but she looked reassured all the same. "I think we're probably needed to help in Ronald's room."

Hermione followed Narcissa out of the kitchen, depositing their bowls in the sink as they walked through. Ernie, Neville and Draco had lent a hand, it seemed, and Draco wasa busy, setting up the IV cart.

"How do you know how to do that, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, watching his quick fingers.

He smiled. "Ernie stole your computer in the middle of the night when we got back from the hospital and we looked it up in line. This is my thirteenth time doing it."

"On line, Malfoy. And, I'm glad you're learning how to do medicine the muggle way," Hermione replied, laying her hand on his shoulder for a brief moment.

He smirked. "You and Weasley looked pretty comfortable last night."

"Another word and I won't protect you from an oncoming avada. Got it?" Hermione snapped playfully. "Tell me why you like medicine the muggle way."

"It's amusing," he replied. "Lots of little pieces in a puzzle."

"You're strange, Malfoy." Hermione shook her head, watching Ernie and Neville do a complex, two-person transfiguration of one of the sofas into a medical operating table before going in the open door to Ron's room.

He looked worse than the night before, his pallor almost making his face blend into the bed linens around him. Breathing shallow, he opened his eyes a fraction to look at Hermione and smiled feebly.

"Don't say anything," Hermione admonished. Narcissa repeated the diagnostic charms, letting Hermione see that his fever had elevated and his blood pressure and pulse had dropped. "Fuck."

"It'll be over soon," Narcissa said to Ron, laying a cool flannel over his forehead. He closed his eyes and swallowed, letting his heavy head to fall to the side. To Hermione she continued. "We need to act quickly, before the infection gets more severe."

Hermione nodded. "I know. I'll go see how Severus is with the potion."

She left the sitting room as Draco and Ernie made their way into Ron's room to transport him to the medical table.

The door creaked slightly as Hermione opened the cellar door to descend the stairs. Even though she had been the one, technically, to buy the house, she had never been in the lower level. The stairs were simply wood planks on a cross-brace, going down to a grayish cement floor and non-descript white plaster walls. The smell of the potion hit Hermione before she was little more than half way down: a greasy, acid-smelling scent with thick, yellowish vapors.

"Professor?" Hermione called out tentatively. When he didn't answer, she scaled down the rest of the stairs and looked around. He wasn't in the main room, where the potion was simmering, but Hermione didn't worry- he had definitely set a timer or an alarm of a sort. There were two out of place looking doors- they were the same as the ones upstairs but oddly incongruous in the unfinished basement.

The first was ajar and Hermione checked it first. Nothing but the hot water heater. Upon opening the second, Hermione was met with the sight of Severus, fully clothed in what he had worn the night before and curled up on a thin mattress in the corner.

Just as she was about to leave and let him be in peace, a low buzz began from his wand, like Ginny's, and he stirred, smacking it from the bed. She smiled and retreated swiftly, not wanting to surprise him while he was more than three quarters asleep, and perched herself on the lower treads of the stairs.

He looked weary, but completely alert when he came out. "Morning, you," he acknowledged.

"How is the potion?" She asked, getting up to peer into the cauldron. He plopped a stool in front of her and she took the hint, climbing up to sit.

Stirring cautiously thirteen times counter-clockwise and adding seven clockwise to the end he replied, "Seems to be going correctly. It will be completed in fifteen minutes, by my calculations."

"What else needs to be done?" Hermione asked, leaning over more fully to look closer.

"Add the bay leaf, ten clockwise, twelve counter. Strain and chill immediately. Serve at leisure," he said, coming to stand behind her. "You look better this morning."

"Thanks," replied Hermione. "You look like sunshine too."

He said nothing, only gently dropped the bay leaves into the simmering mixture. The change was immediate- instead of it's previous sickly yellow color, it was now a pale green, almost a calming shade. He began to stir, the potion swirling and becoming darker, then more blue, until he was finished and it burbled gently in the cauldron a deep, midnight blue.

Something had taken place between them as well- Hermione knew, somehow, that the act of watching him brew was somehow more intimate than would be thought. He collaborated occasionally, yes, but to let Hermione simply be in his space as he worked seemed inexplicably different.

When it was completed chilling, he gestured Hermione to precede him up the stairs without a word. She did, opening the door for him into the kitchen and making sure the way was cleared into the sitting room, where they had started the procedures.

As they entered the room, Ginny was gently taping down the IV port on her brother's arm. Narcissa sat on his other side on a low stool, rubbing numbing salve over his chest and neck. His head lolling back and to the side, Ron's breath seemed to have worsened in the time since Hermione had last been in the room.

"I think we aught to concentrate on the empyema and the rib splinter," Hermione said quietly into Narcissa's ear. "He's not doing so well, it seems, and the subcutaneous emphysemas can wait."

She nodded. "Severus, could you please help me get the patient onto his right side?"

He nodded, and instead of using his wand, he used his arms and strength, as if he knew that now was not the time for foolish wand-waving.

Ginny came to stand behind Narcissa, watching Hermione use a sharpie to gently mark off the incision site. "Cut at a thirty degree angle," she said, finishing the dotted line. "Then, Ginny, use the retractors to hold the skin and muscle back."

There was a tense several seconds after Severus handed Narcissa the silver bladed scalpel; all that could be heard was Ron's intensely labored breathing. Quick as a wink, though, she made the cut- deep, black blood flowing openly from the incision and onto the waiting absorbent pads. It was small, only around two inches in diameter, but it bled fiercely. Ginny blanched, then quickly recovered, putting in place the metal retractors to hold the flesh and muscle away from Ron's exposed ribs.

"Good, Gins," Hermione soothed. "Severus, nausea potion, please, a round for all?"

"I'm all right," Narcissa said, using her wand to create a hovering image of Ron's thoracic cavity. Ginny and Hermione took the potion gratefully. "I think we need to drain the empyema first. I can't see past the pleural space."

Hermione shook her head fervently, "Leaving the site open for too long has a huge risk for increased infection. Ginny, go ahead and administer the antibiotic injection in the soft flesh of the shoulder, like you did with Narcissa's when you did the mark removal."

"I can't see as well as I would like to, Hermione," Narcissa said, surveying the incision site.

She nodded. "I know. Instead of using the animadverto preteritus charm, try a variant- I have looked into the visum penitus for cases like this. It tends to get a clearer picture around fluids."

Looking confident, Narcissa raised her new apple wood wand and performed the incantation. Gently hovering only centimeters above Ron's side, a clear picture of the ribs and lungs appeared in lurid color.

"There it is," Ginny said, pointing to the broken sixth rib, its shard puncturing the middle lobe of his lung. "That's great- where did you learn that one?"

Hermione shrugged. "Figured it out. Now, using the aufero placide, Gin, concentrate on the splinter and pull it out very slowly."

As Ginny prepared herself, Hermione noticed her palms were sweating and shaking a bit. Pale, but determined, she whispered the spell, watching the splinter twitch right and left then slowly respond to her movements.

The four attendants were riveted to the sort of x-ray floating above his skin, the moving sliver capturing their sole attention. It came into view through the blood and mucus, a pale white spectre moving through and out of his body, shifting the fibres of his muscles as it wiggled out to rest atop his uninjured seventh rib. Severus was quick to pluck the splinter from the wound, a pair of long, silver tweezers in his hand. Releasing it into a tiny jar, blood still spotting it in grim bright red droplets, he laid it aside on the surgical table.

"Right," Hermione whispered, her breath choking in her throat. "Go ahead and close the incision, Narcissa."

Using her fingers and her wand, she gently fused the edges of the skin together, leaving only a faint scar. "I don't know what more to do, except bandage it and make sure he doesn't move for a day or so."

"It's good, you're doing great," Hermione said, turning for the first time to Ron. "Can you move your arm up and over your head?"

He did, his eyes wide and staring at the wall. "You should close your eyes and try to relax, Ron, or I'm going to have to stupefy you."

Smiling slightly, Ron closed his eyes, taking a suddenly easy deep breath. Noticing the changes already, he nodded.

"Severus, please prepare the site of the chest drainage tubes with iodine, then apply the sterile drapes," asked Hermione. "I'll mark the incision site."

Using her marker again, she drew a half inch long dotted line below his nipple and around to the side, specifically at the 5th intercostal space slightly anterior to the mid axillary line. Coming behind her, Snape used cotton balls to rub iodine around the site and then tape down absorbent sterile drapes around the area.

"Ready," Ginny said, holding up the newly sterilized scalpel for Narcissa.

Hermione nodded. "Go ahead when Severus is done."

This time, Narcissa did not hesitate in her cutting, although it was something that her healing background would not have prepared her for; she did have confident, steady hands, though, and a determination that Hermione did not know she possessed. How could she? All Mrs. Malfoy had ever been was a spy- a damn good spy- and a doting, coddling mother.

"Now," Hermione guided, "use the trocar- the large, hollow needle, to pierce through the pleural space into the thoracic cavity. No more than a centimeter."

Narcissa nodded, guiding the terrifying needle into place. "When it's in place, Ginny, thread the guide wire through the hollow of the trocar as Narcissa keeps it steady."

"In place," Narcissa said briskly, moving her elbows out of the way for Ginny to pass the guide wire through the trocar.

Ginny's shaking had passed, and the usually gentle young woman had a fierce expression of determination on her face as she steadily fed it through the hollow. A thick bead of pale yellow fluid leaked out of the top of the trocar, but she did not flinch.

"Remove the trocar," Hermione said. "And, Severus, be prepared to clean up the incision site. Lots of infection very likely will come with it."

Gently and slowly, Narcissa withdrew the trocar, leaving the guide wire in place. With it did come large amounts of infected fluid, which Severus mopped away with sterile towels which he then banished immediately. Gesturing to the tapered soft silicone tube, Hermione instructed Narcissa to feet it over the guide wire and into the cavity.

There was a silencing spell over the rest of the house to keep the noise out, but if there hadn't been, the only sounds they would have heard were the light snores and muffled sleep-talk of the inhabitants upstairs.

With the chest tube in place, Narcissa closed the wound around the intubation with her wand, again, and began to pull at the guide wire, retracting it from the cavity. "Excellent," Hermione said, pulling the catheter to it's full length and attaching a drainage container to the end. They collectively looked away as the yellow puss, discolored with shots of blood, wound down the tube and into the container.

"Potions, Severus," said Hermione weakly, slumping back into her chair. He administered the lung renovation potion and several others, which Hermione did not question. "And keep the patient in his bed for at least twenty-four hours. No cheating."

Her eyes closed heavily.

"I'll take her back to bed," Ginny said quietly, "if you and Snape transport my brother upstairs."

There was a rustling, which Hermione took to mean that they had accepted. She found herself being led, mostly unconscious, back to her room and having her shoes, denims and sweater unceremoniously pulled off of her and her body deposited under the sheets.

Looking around for only a moment, she caught Ginny's light brown eyes. "You did very well, Garnet. I'm proud of you. Harry would be proud of you."

Feeling Ginny slide into bed beside her, Hermione nuzzled towards her warmth.

"I know," said Ginny as they both slid towards sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Sometimes it seemed like coffee was the only thing keeping Hermione awake. A steaming cup next to a french press sat on her desk as she began to put together a list of items to discuss at that evening's order meeting.

Tapping her pen against her lips, Hermione considered their options. They needed to be seen in England- and make Riddle mad with impotence- why couldn't the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix be found? Because its not in England, you nose-less shit bag, Hermione thought.

As if on cue, Tonks poked her head into Hermione's room.

"Come in, " Hermione smiled warmly. "Sorry there's not more room."

"Want to go out?" asked Tonks, thumbing out the door. "I'm going stir crazy."

Hermione shrugged. "Sure. Just let me get ready. You want lunch?"

"Always hungry," she replied. "I'll grab Garnet, too. She's got some stuff to show you."

Nodding, she replied, "Great. Meet me in the foyer in ten minutes."

After Tonks left, Hermione took her prescribed regimen of potions left by Severus ("You're still recovering, little girl,") and rubbed a bit of lotion on her face and hands before pulling on a sweater, scarf, hat and gloves. From her bottomless bag, she took a notebook and several pens to shove into a second, normal, purse with her American money.

Ginny, who had been receiving driving lessons from Neville, drove the three of them to a nearby ubiquitous local chain restaurant- an Applebee's or a Friday's- something equally non-discript. They were seated in a far booth, by a window, and their drinks ordered.

Neither Ginny nor Tonks said anything about Hermione's three o'clock order of a glass of white wine.

Almost simultaneously, Tonks and Hermione threw up several high-level notice-me-not charms before looking at each other and giggling.

"I'm so glad to be out of that wretched house," Ginny said, luxuriating in the space around her. "It's not a bad house- in fact, its great, but I was going berserk."

"I know what you mean," Hermione nodded, "It sounds awful, but I'm so glad to finally have company."

Tonks seemed to sense the melancholy permeating the space, so she subtly altered the color of her hair three shades darker. "I wonder how long it will take the waiter to get confused as to why my hair keeps changing colors."

Ginny and Hermione cracked up, as was the point of her stunt, and they had to take several long moments to catch their breaths.

"Point taken, Tonks," Ginny said wryly, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

She shrugged, letting her hair deepen another shade. "Just keeping you on your toes."

"As much as I hate being a spoil-sport," Hermione giggled, "we don't have a huge amount of time for our little meeting."

"Then I'd better get this out of the way," Tonks replied, pulling a single sheet of paper out of her jacket pocket. "I've devised a hierarchy schedule for you, Hermione. You can change it though, of course."

She took the paper, flattening it on the fake wood table top. In Tonks' spiky, erratic writing, she had listed the whole order and assigned them to an army-like system of command. At the top of the list was 'H. Granger-' with a hesitant spot, as if Tonks had not decided what to call her. Below that was:

Colonel N. Tonks

Lieutenant Colonel R. Weasley

Major S. Snape

Lieutenant Major B. Weasley

1st Captain -

"Hey! I'm higher in the chain of command than my parents!" Ginny giggled, purposefully bringing light to the situation. She was infinitely capable of the post, the others knew, and her childish outburst was taken as a sign of true intimacy with the other women present.

"Impertinent," Hermione replied, continuing down the list.

- G. Weasley

2nd Captain D. Malfoy

3rd Captain C. Weasley

1st Lieutenant N. Longbottom

2nd Lieutenant L. Lovegood

3rd Lieutenant N. Malfoy

Chief Warrant Officer A. Weasley

Warrant Officer A. Tonks

Sergeant Major- F. Delacoeur-Weasley

Staff Sergeant M. Weasley

Lance Corporals F. Weasley, G. Weasley

Corporal L. Jordan

Specialist E. MacMillian

Petty Officer Pad. Patil

Privates P. Weasley, K. Bell, Par. Patil, D. Thomas, H. Abbott

"Looks good," Hermione commented, pushing it back across the table at Tonks. "You think you're ready?"

Tonks sat up straighter, but there was honesty in her eyes, which were currently pale violet. "No offence meant, Commander, but, were you ready, ma'am?"

"Dispense with the ma'am, Tonks. You're among family," Hermione smiled. "And, no. I was not prepared."

Ginny was eerily silent beside Hermione, looking at the dessert menu more intently than strictly healthy.

"Congratulations, Garnet," continued Hermione, "on making Captain."

Looking up with teary eyes, Ginny nodded. "Thanks," she sniffed and added belatedly, "Commander."

Before Hermione could react, Tonks jumped in. "Sign of respect, 'Mione. Get used to it. It is a hundred times easier to keep people in line when you allow them to use titles of respect."

Hermione nodded, the full weight of the title hitting her- it hadn't, fully, the week before, when she had led them into battle. Somehow, now, coming from her best girlfriend, it was real- finally real.

Harry is dead.

No! Not now, Hermione chided herself, sloshing down the last of her wine.

"What do you have for me, Garnet?" she asked quickly.

After taking a quick sip of water, Ginny pulled a miniature file from her bag and discreetly tapped it with her wand. A stack of manila folders nearly a foot high appeared, straining at the rubber band that held them in place. They were very neat and orderly, with no spare edges of papers poking out the sides. Even though they were in good condition, it was evident that they were well-thumbed.

"Harry entrusted these to me," Ginny explained. "He didn't tell me what they were and made me promise not to open them, but that I had to give them to who was the next apparent leader if he died. Which, subsequently, he did. Die, that is."

Hermione took Ginny's hand on the booth next to them, the red vinyl smooth and cool on the backs of her fingers. Squeezing gently, she didn't release her friend as she used her non-dominant hand to pull the rubber band back.

Everything was white, and a searing pain shot hot and bright up Hermione's left side. It took her breath away, and she jerked sideways away from the pain and ended up laying across Ginny's lap. One piercing scream rent the still air of the restaurant, but the patrons did not notice; Tonks' notice-me-not charms were exceptional.

The pain and whiteness subsided almost instantly, leaving Hermione a panting, sweating mess.

"What the fuck was that?" Hermione nearly yelled, pulling herself up off of Ginny's lap. "Thanks, Gin."

"Not a problem?" Ginny said, her face pale and confused. "What happened?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "Pain. Ohmigod pain."

"Where?" asked Tonks, who had moved during Hermione's fit to stand at the end of their booth.

"My left side. It felt like I was being- tattooed." Hermione replied, suddenly standing. "I'll be right back!"

She rushed through the back of the restaurant to the ladies' room, shoving open the swinging door with such force it reverberated off the wall behind it. Already pulling off her top as she ducked into the handicap accessible stall, she discarded her sweater, undershirt and bra on the blue and red flecked laminate floor tiles.

"Holy Fuck," she whispered, trailing her fingers up her ribcage. Under her fingertips, blooming scarlet, orange, gold and black, was a phoenix. Its head looked up at her, the gold and black eyes strangely searching, with its body fully stretched out and extending down her side, the plumes falling further downward to the crest of her hip. The wings were outstretched at a diagonal, one reaching up towards her shoulder blade, the other down, caressing the curve of her belly. It was motionless, like her muggle tattoo, but somehow strangely alive- as if it might move and speak under her skin at any moment. "Woah."

The door swung open, more gently. "Hermione?" whispered Ginny.

"I'm in here," replied Hermione, snapping her bra back into place. "You've got to see this."

She un-bolted the door and admitted Ginny, raising her left arm above her head. "Oh my..." Ginny said, her hand raising to her mouth.

"I know, right?" replied Hermione waggishly.

Ginny's fingers paused over the phoenix. "Harry didn't get this."

Shrugging, Hermione said, "Maybe he knew this would look bitching on me?"

"I'm sure that's the reason," Ginny laughed, stretching her cool fingers over the tattoo, as if to feel Harry inside of it... "Maybe the answer is in the files?"

"He probably left a letter," said Hermione as she put back on her undershirt and sweater. "Come on. I'm hungry."

They walked back to their table, where Tonks was talking to their waiter, her hair nearly black. "You all right?" she inquired.

"Yes," Hermione replied, looking up at the waiter. "A touch of morning sickness, you see."

He looked concerned for a moment. "Would you like some bread or something?"

"Please," Hermione asked, looking up at him plaintively. He looked on her with sympathy and on Tonks with interest.

Tonks laughed lightly as he walked away. "That was good, 'Mione!"

"Thanks," she shrugged.

"Tell Tonks about your tattoo!" Ginny urged.

Tonks looked over at Hermione with confusion, "You mean the one on your-"

"No," Hermione shook her head, the tips of her short hair flicking around her forehead. "That's what happened when I messed with the files."

"A tattoo?" asked Tonks, her eyes widening. "The files gave you a tattoo?"

Pulling up the edge of her sweater to show Tonks the edge of the plumes on her hip, she replied. "Yes. It hurt."

"I imagine!" She cried, reaching for the files, still sitting out on the table.

Hermione and Ginny both lunged across the table to stop her, Ginny batting her hands away and Hermione grabbing at the folders. "I don't know what will happen if you touch them."

"I think having a tattoo like that would be cool," Ginny replied. "But, we should probably do this back at the Fake Colonial."

"Agreed," said Tonks.

Their food came in steaming dishes only seconds later and they dug in.

"May I mention what happened the other morning?" Ginny mentioned slyly, scooping a bit of chicken penne onto her spoon, the long, white cheese stretching from her chin to the plate.

Looking heavenward as she finished chewing her fish sandwich, Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What happened?" Tonks asked, patting at her mouth with her napkin.

Ginny and Hermione met eyes. "Fine," Hermione sighed.

"We slept in the same bed the night before Ron's procedure," Ginny began, smirking. Hermione, on the other hand, turned bright red. "And in the morning, she called me..."

Laughing, Tonks interjected- "Tell me! Charlie? Ernie?"

"No-" Ginny replied. "She rolled over, all sleepy and says- Severus!"

Tonks was stunned into silence, a bit of hamburger clinging to the corner of her mouth. "You're shitting me."

"No-" Hermione interjected. "We slept together."

At Tonks' still stunned expression, she continued. "Twice."

The first question- in a very Tonksian fashion, "Was it good?"

"Lovely," she replied, chewing on a few fries.

Tonks was silent for a little while longer, Ginny grinning like a mad woman. Hermione continued her meal.

"Was he-" Tonks gestured with her hands.

Simply again, Hermione replied, "Yes."

"Like-" she stretched her hands apart and let them rest in the air.

Hermione moved them; Tonks stared at the blank space, knowing that it represented the size of Snape's- "Wow."

"Really?" Ginny asked. "I always thought-" she gestured as well, indicating the size she had imagined.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What?" she shrugged. "He's our ex-professor, not a dementor, like I told you then."

Tonks recovered enough to complete a full sentence. "Its the voice, isn't it?"

"Has to be," Ginny quipped. "It's not his hair."

Hermione sat silently as Ginny and Tonks batted back and forth Severus Snape's good and bad qualities.

"Well, he's cut that," said Tonks, gesturing to her head with a lemon wedge from her water in hand. "And I was there when his deviated septum was fixed."

"Really?" asked Hermione. "I thought that he had been in Paris the whole time."

She nodded, waiting to finish chewing. "I was in Paris with Charlie and Mad-Eye when the three of them got spotted. I didn't, obviously, because I'm me."

"Who did it?" asked Ginny. "And who proposed it? I can't imagine going up to Snape and being all like, 'hey, lets fix your nose,' to him."

"I did that to his teeth," Hermione replied. "At Charles de Gualle."

"At the airport?" snorted Tonks. "What did he say?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't quite remember, but I think I just did it and he swore at me and I didn't tell him what I was doing until after."

"I haven't seen him enough," Ginny said, pulling her hair around her shoulder to idly braid. "But I'll look when I can."

"I suppose the consensus is, 'Mione," Tonks said, mock toasting with her water glass, "is that we're very pleased you're getting laid."

"On a more consistent basis," said Hermione with a hokey fake glare, "if Ginny would stick to her own bed."

"I'm willing to put out," Ginny laughed, "to get away from Tonks' snoring."

"I only snore if I fall asleep with a modified nose," she replied, in her own defense.

Ginny finished her braid, the red coming around her slender neck and down her chest. "I'll have to remember to remind you tonight," she remarked drolly.

Hermione began to get misty eyed and had no problem showing it. "I'm so terribly grateful," she whispered, taking Ginny's hand again under the table. "That we're all here safe and together."

Tonks nodded, pushing her chin down so that the other two wouldn't see her own teary eyes. "I just wish-"

"I know," Hermione murmured, reaching across the table for one of Tonks' trembling hands. "Not in vain- we will not let them have...in vain. I promise."

Ginny broke the lachrymose silence. "Let's go back to the house, say?"

They nodded, Hermione reaching into her bag for several american bills, which she left on the table.

The snow had begun falling outside, coating the world in a kind of hazy, dreamy film. The snowflakes were large and lazily drifting downward, spotting the shoulders of their coats and melting on their heads.

Carefully, Ginny maneuvered the Volvo out of their parking spot and onto the road toward the Fake Colonial. Hermione, in the front passenger seat, let her fingers worry at the stitching on the edge of the leather seat as she stared out the window.

Harry died on Christmas Eve.

How could they be so functional only a week later? How could Ginny see to drive down the road- how could Tonks smile and change the color of her hair?

Suddenly the snow seemed less dream-like and comfortable and more oppressive and tyrannical. It drove down hard at a diagonal outside the windows, obscuring and covering everything it collided with.

As they pulled up to the Fake Colonial, they spotted Charlie on the front porch smoking a cigarette, it's enchanted tobacco glowing bright green in the impending dark of the late afternoon. He threw it into the snow when he saw them approach, making a small, burrowing tunnel through the drift.

"Hermione!" he called, jogging down to their car.

Glancing at Tonks, he quickly turned his attention back to their commander. "Snape has broken through some of Nott's memory charms and mind barriers set up by his dark mark."

Charlie caught his breath, flashing a celebratory smile at Tonks. "Lupin's alive."


	17. Chapter 17

"Inside, now," Hermione barked at Tonks, Ginny and Charlie, who were all standing stone still in the front yard. "I want an interview with Nott- immediately."

"What about-" started Tonks.

"I need you to start a time-table, Tonks," Hermione called from over her shoulder, "with scheduled visits to be seen in the UK by all order members. A few members per day, please. I want you to present at the meeting this evening."

Tonks nodded, her whole frame at attention.

Charlie opened the door for his commander and led her through the foyer, their snowy shoes squeaking loudly on the hardwood floor. "He's in Snape's room," Charlie said, taking her through the kitchen and to the cellar door.

"Perfect," she replied, unbuttoning her coat rapidly as she took the stairs down. "Send Fred or George down in thirty minutes."

"Can do, Hermione," Charlie called down the stairs, but Hermione had already gone out of sight.

She laid her coat, scarf and hat over a work bench and cast a warming charm on her hands and face before gently knocking on the door into what had become Snape's room. After a second, she opened it.

"Might I speak with you, Professor?" Hermione asked from the doorway, glancing at Theodore Nott sitting in a straight backed chair in the corner of the dark room. Snape nodded, making eye contact with Nott before coming out of the room.

When the door had been closed and their perimeter silenced, Hermione jumped head-first into the conversation. "What did you find?"

"After taking down a few high-level mind barriers set up by Riddle himself, probably through the dark mark, I discovered a suppressed set of memories," Snape began, his voice low. "Lupin is being kept by Greyback with several of our other missing members somewhere in the Hebrides."

"Who else?" Hermione asked quietly. "Which other members and who else is guarding them?"

"Greyback works solitarily, with werewolf backup at the edge of their camp," replied Severus. "He has Shacklebolt, Podmore and Lavender Brown with him."

Hermione's eyes lit up, but she did not feel joy that her friends could be alive. She felt joy that the order would be stronger with their additions and they might, just might, be able to fight back.

"I want to confirm," Hermione said, jerking her head towards the door. "Give me five minutes and then come in."

Without waiting for him to respond, she opened the door and slipped in. Nott sat miserably on his chair still, his head hanging towards his chest.

"Nott," Hermione addressed. He looked up, his face marred by a week's worth of not shaving and mental anguish. "You know who I am, don't you?"

He looked up, meeting her gaze. There was no malice in his dark eyes, just resignation. "Hermione Granger. We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

"We were," Hermione conceeded. "I'm also the commander of the Order of the Phoenix."

Theodore was silent still.

"I have been told," continued Hermione, coming to stand before him, "that you have doubts about serving Riddle."

He nodded, jerking his head slightly up and down.

"Look at me," she hissed. The moment their eyes met she whispered, "Legilimens."

Hermione ripped into his mind savagely, pushing everything out of the way as she tore through his memories.

Watching a chocolate frog hop away. His mother's second husband ruffling his hair affectionately. Daphne Greengrass waiting for him to take her to the Yule ball- beautiful in pale yellow dress robes.

Closer, closer.

Watching Hermione across the potion's lab, copying her movements. Talking quietly with Lucius Malfoy. Voldemort branding the mark into his arm, unspeakable pain. Watching as Bellatrix tortured a small muggle child. Blond hair. The child's mother staring unseeingly at the scene through dead eyes as the toddler screamed for her.

Hate, hate, hate.

Voldemort orating, his voice sending chills down Nott's spine. Hot shower, scalding, burning at his back. Wash the feeling of him out of his skin. The mark, a greasy feeling in his throat.

Hate, hate, hate.

Almost there, Hermione mentally urged.

Remus, his chest with a huge, gaping slash from shoulder to hip, on his knees, being dragged unconscious by- who was that? Green island, flying over the Isle of Lewis- Scotland! Waves beating ferociously on the rocky shore. Seals... Ruined house? Chapel? Very old. Inside, held together by magic.

Cages? Lavender Brown, laying on her side, naked except for her long brown hair covering one breast. Filthy. All of them in cages. Proud Shacklebolt, cheek pressed to the metal of the cage... Sturgis' beautiful flaxen hair matted and sticking to his scalp.

Greyback, with several other feral-looking men and women, eating with their hands at a rough-hewn table across the room from their starving captives. Gesturing with a greasy hunk of mutton at him- at Nott, to join in the fun.

Oh, God, not Lavender. Not that kind of fun.

Retching. Retching. Vile, filthy. Retching.

Hermione pulled out of his mind more gently than she had entered it. Nott was panting, sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead, pale as a moon-faced calf.

"Severus," Hermione called out, making Nott flinch and clutch at his splitting head. "A headache potion for Nott, please."

He brought it moments later, the light from the cellar laboratory cutting across Nott's face and sending him into spasms of pain. He drank at the cooling blue liquid.

"Could I please lie down for a while?" he asked meekly.

Hermione consented and motioned for Severus to join her outside. They walked up the cellar stairs and through the kitchen to the back deck, the winter air bracing and reassuring as the snow fell.

She lit up, dragging the smoke through her throat to burn deliciously at her lungs, then offered it to Snape. He took it, repeating her motions and giving it back.

"He doesn't want to be a death eater," Hermione stated baldly. "But I have to send him back. We need him."

"No double-spy this time," Severus stipulated. "He can work well enough with Lucius filtering information through."

"Agreed," said Hermione, shivering slightly. She drew her wand to perform a warming charm, but Severus had already pulled his coat off his shoulders to wrap it around her. "Thank you."

"Who do you want to send to retrieve Lupin and the others?" Severus asked quietly, passing the burning cigarette back to Hermione, smoke still curling out of his mouth.

She thought for a moment. "I can't send Tonks this time," she said. "I don't want her anywhere near a rescue attempt for her husband. I don't have the time or patience for a berserker, and definitely not if that berserker is my Colonel."

"Colonel?" questioned Severus.

Hermione nodded. "The Order has been ranked for ease of command. Tonks is a highly trained, very capable woman who has a prodigious military mind. She is my colonel."

Severus crept closer to her, his warm breath ghosting over the chilly shell of her ear. "And where do I fall in this line?"

"Major Severus Snape," Hermione shuddered, his lips brushing against the smooth sinews of her neck.

"I've come up in the world, haven't I?" He whispered, then bit on her earlobe.

Hermione chuckled. "You've got to stop that, Severus. I've a prisoner of war in the cellar and about six hundred things to do before the meeting this evening."

"What do you need?" asked Severus, leaning his chin down to rest on the crown of her head.

She thought for a moment, taking the final draw of the smoldering cigarette. "Research. You're good at it. Take the memories of the Island they're being kept on and find it. Use Ernie and Hannah Abbott. They'll know most about Northern Scotland and the Internet."

"Always at your service," he murmured, stroking her exposed wrist with two fingers, light as a whisper.

Hermione snorted. "Get started. I'll be in my quarters."

As she slid open the glass door back into the kitchen, she shot him a quick, dazzling smile.

In her room, Hermione pulled off her boots before climbing up onto her bed. Using a simply scourgify, she erased the last markings on her wall and began to make a list, standing on the comforter to start nearly at the ceiling.

Who to send to get their wayward members? Not Tonks, that was for sure. Hermione decided to once again lead a squad and delegate a second. Who? Severus... That's good. Send Severus as counterpoint with Ginny, Draco and Bill. Take Luna, Neville and Charlie with her...Maybe Fleur. She was damn fast with her wand-work and a terrifying duellist. Leave Luna here. Charlie would know the terrain best; there was a dragon sanctuary on a nearby skerry. Neville needed more combat experience, and it was unlikely that any high-ranking death eaters would be present- just werewolves. Funny...just werewolves. Trade Ginny with Neville; a leader, two highly talented duellists on each squad and a good point scout. Perfect.

Hermione (she wrote on the wall) commander of 1st squad, consisting of point scout Charlie Weasley, duellists Fleur Delacoeur and Ginny Weasley.

Severus Snape, commander of counterpoint squad, consisting of point scout Neville Longbottom, duellists Bill Weasley and Draco Malfoy.

Sitting back on her heels, a sharp tapping came from her door. "Come in," she called.

George Weasley entered (she knew it was him because he had only drawn his hair back over one ear- the other was missing and could not act as a barrette) and sat down in the leather backed chair at her desk.

"Needed me, boss?" he asked, propping his stockinged feet up on her bed, which she promptly shoved down.

Hermione nodded. "I need a punching telescope, like the one I got hit with a few years back."

"Blimey, 'Mione," George cried, "You're not going to use it on me, are you?"

"No, although I wish," Hermione replied. "I'm going to use it on Nott, so that when he crawls back to the dark lord, he'll look all beat up."

"Excellent idea," George agreed, waggling his brows. "Might I administer the punch?"

"No," said Hermione shortly. "But I will let you watch."

"Wicked," he said, getting up out of the chair. "I'll get some instant scar film as well- make him look like we've really cut him up."

Hermione chuckled as he left, then called at his retreating back. "Knew I could count on you!"

Several hours later, just as her eyes were beginning to loose their focus on the written word, Hermione smelled something cooking in the kitchen. Emerging, she stretched her arms above her head and heard a vertebrae or two pop loudly.

"Why 'ello, 'Ermione," Fleur sang from the stove. "Are 'ou 'ungrey?"

Hermione smiled, moving closer to smell the cooking food. "I am. This looks great, Fleur. What is it?"

"Emincé de Volaille sauce Roquefort et Pommes de terre sautées," She said, letting out a high, tinkling laugh. "Or, chicken with Roquefort sauce and sauteed potatoes."

"Will you have enough for all?" asked Hermione, staring at the small sauce pan on the stove, blue gas flames licking up the sides.

Fleur nodded. "This is just zee sauce. Zee chicken eez in zee oven. Enough to feed an army!"

"Thank you, then. When will it be done?" asked Hermione, pulling down a clean mug for another cup of coffee.

"In twenty minutes, I think," she said. "I would ask 'ou to gather zhose 'oo would like to eat, pleeze, 'Ermione?"

She smiled, adding a touch of sugar to the dark liquid. "I will, and send a few to set the tables."

Making her way out of the kitchen, she called to those gathered in the sitting room watching the telly that dinner would be ready soon and that Ernie and Padma should ask Fleur how she wanted the tables set.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Hermione knocked first on the master bedroom door, which Andromeda answered, and then on the others and let them know. Severus was in the room he shared with Charlie and Draco alone with his research strewn over the floor space beside his bed. He gave her a gruff semi-answer and waved her away. Mounting the third floor steps, she knew she would have to talk to Tonks about what was going on.

The walls had been banished at the top of the stairs, she noted, and several of the inhabitants were milling about on the floor.

"Get ready for dinner," Hermione said to the twins and Katie as she spotted Tonks and Ginny sitting on one of the beds. As the others left, she made her way to them, to sit on the end of the quilt. "All right, Tonks?"

She nodded, her eyes bloodshot. "I'm a little mad that you didn't let me in on the questioning of Nott, but I understand. It's personal, not rational."

Hermione accepted that. "You understand that you will not be a part of the rescue party."

"I do," Tonks sighed, blowing her nose again.

"You'll be ok here, won't you?" asked Ginny. "You can put together a room for you and Remus. Surprise him with smutty lingerie?"

Tonks finally smiled, first at Ginny and then enveloped Hermione in her smile. "Its just hard sometimes, you know?"

"I do," Hermione agreed, putting her hand on top of Tonks' on the coverlet and smiling reassuringly. "Now, get yourself cleaned up. "Phlegm" made some amazing French concoction."

It seemed all was mended as she came back down the stairs to the second floor landing. Severus stood in his doorway, his arms crossed as he watched her come down.

"Yes?" she asked cheekily, crossing her arms in a similar way. An almost evil looking smirk crossed his face.

"Get in here," he said, taking her by the wrist and dragging her into the room, throwing up iron-clad wards as he took her to his bed against the far wall.

Before she could register exactly what was happening, he had pinned her to the bed, almost all of his weight pressing her down. Using a free hand, he pushed her trousers and panties down, her sex already glistening. Fast, brutal and furious he stroked her, pinched her, pressed her; the fabric of their shirts rustling against each other; breath coming in fast pants, almost to the point of hypoxia.

When they came together, it was what they needed. It was no longer about becoming one with each other, becoming whole, or satisfaction. They attacked the other with a kind of feral animalistic hunger- a desperation that was new to them. The first time they were together, they had explored. The second time they were together, they made love. The third time, they fucked.

Coming down, though, as Hermione was coming to cherish, he held her close, kissing and nuzzling her neck, stroking her belly. As their breathing began to even, his long, slender fingers paused over her left hip, probing, then falling still again.

"What the hell is that?"


	18. Chapter 18

The people that gathered for the meeting that night were packed into the sitting room and spilling out into the foyer. Hermione stood by the fireplace, the flames giving her a strange glow, Tonks and Ginny shared a love seat with several people sitting at their feet, Severus stood in the far corner of the room with his back against the wall, Ron was brought down and sat in the best wing back chair and the rest piled in, sitting on pillows or blankets and standing.

"I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to order," Hermione said with a smile.

"Here, here!" called Fred and George in unison, as usual.

Rolling her eyes at the antics of her almost-brothers, she began, "Reading of the minutes of our last meeting, please, Padma?"

Padma stood up, smoothing her skirt with one hand as she scanned her notes. "Last meeting December twenty-eighth at eight in the morning, lasted one hour and four minutes. All present with the exception of Ron Weasley, recovering from attack, Katie Bell, recovering from attack and Hermione Granger, spell exhaustion. Nymph-"

"Don't you dare," hissed Tonks from across the room. There were a few scattered laughs and Padma continued.

"Tonks presiding. First order of business: our rescue attempt was successful. She called upon Bill Weasley and Severus Snape for an account of Hermione Granger's unbreakable vow with Lord Voldemort. Draco Malfoy gives an account of the logic behind naming Neville Longbottom as Voldemort's equal. General chaos erupts until Molly Weasley sets off a stunner. She gives a rousing oration, most all are in agreement that it was bloody brilliant to trick Voldemort into naming Neville as equal. Second order of business, the apparent imperiousness of Lord Voldemort to our spell work. Several theories presented, all rejected unanimously. Third order was the capture of suspected supporter Theodore Nott. Unanimous vote to question Nott extensively and to potentially convert him to a spy, working under Lucius Malfoy. Fourth order: whomever is not flushing the second floor toilet needs to quit it."

"Right, then," Hermione said, taking up her post as host of the meeting. "First order of business. I would like to call upon Severus Snape to give an account of what he has discovered in Nott's mind."

Severus scowled, but made his way to the fireplace to stand next to her. "Upon examination," he started, his voice purposefully low so that everyone would have to strain to hear him, thus putting all attention directly on his message, "I have found that four of our missing in action order members have been kept hostage in the Hebrides, in Scotland. Nott unknowingly carried this information, which was concealed behind high-level mind barriers. Being kept by Fenrir Greyback are Sturgis Podmore, Lavender Brown, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"There will be a rescue mission attempted early next week," he continued. "I have determined that the threat of their death is low, as Miss Brown has been missing for over four months and she is relatively unharmed. The first squadron will be headed by myself, with point-scout Charlie Weasley and master duellists Bill Weasley and Draco Malfoy. The counterpoint squadron will be headed by Hermione Granger, with rear-scout Neville Longbottom and master duellists Fleur Delacoeur and Ginny Weasley."

"Thank you, Severus," Hermione said. "I know that we are all eager to have our missing comrades with us, but trust me when I tell you that the delay of this mission is due to its sensitive nature and will be executed as soon as it is completely understood and planned for."

A low murmur went around the room, the faces of Hermione's troops worried and excited all at the same time. The light of the fire bounced of their faces, making bright half-moons across their cheeks. Sitting silently, her fingers worrying the edge of her tee-shirt, Tonks' eyes were downcast, staring at Ginny's hand in hers.

"Second order of business. I would like to explain the chain of command I have implemented. On these papers," Hermione explained, holding up a sheaf of parchment, "I have listed every member of the Order of the Phoenix and assigned them a rank. This organization, once used only for the defense of England, has now become the last group standing between Voldemort and the rest of the planet. We are an army. Everyone here knows the importance of the task that we have before us. That is why you will have no problem conforming to this chain of command."

She handed the stack to Hannah Abbott, who began passing them around.

"As you can see," continued Hermione, walking through the room. "Each of you has been given a place in the order of things. I stand at the top as Commander, and any order I give you is to be followed. I will not give you blind orders. The reason I am at the top is that it has been determined that the orders I give you will be well thought out, reasoned and weighed. When I give you an order, it is because I have spent long hours thinking about it.

Underneath me, I have put three people I trust perfectly. Nymphadora Tonks has shown in the past that she is an exceedingly capable strategist, soldier and defensive thinker. She is now in charge of any defensive tactics we implement. For this reason, she is now to be called, when on official business, Colonel Tonks. Ronald Weasley has been with this fight since nearly his infancy. He has proven again and again his courage in the face of defeat, his integrity and his excellent use of logic. He is the definitive source of offensive tactics. He takes this position as Lieutenant Colonel Weasley."

Ron beamed from his chair, the chest tube snaking out from under his shirt unobtrusively.

Tonks nodded stoically, looking somehow every inch a colonel and just as much like a rock-concert refugee.

"From there," Hermione said, "I have named Severus Snape as Major. This man has given more of himself to our cause than anyone else. He is to be treated with the respect that a man deserves when he has spent nearly twenty-five years of his life solely devoted to this cause. He is rational, shrewd and cunning. He is in charge of any interrogation we see fit."

The silence was nearly deafening after Hermione's announcement of Snape's rank, but it was not hostile. It was a sudden epiphany of nearly every person present: this is the kind of man Snape was. Hermione let the silence continue, the realization making its way through the room, and to the man himself, standing by her.

"Bill Weasley has been assigned the post of Lieutenant Major," Hermione said, not even looking at her copy of the list. "His mastery of charms, transfiguration and spell work is unparalleled. For my captains, I have named Ginevra Weasley as first Captain. She is a fierce woman, I promise you, and you will be behooven to stay clear of her hexes. As second Captain, I look to Draco Malfoy. His service, bravery and insights into the Death Eater Organization are invaluable to this army. Trust him, and you will understand. For my third Captain, I name Charlie Weasley, for his excellent defensive work and expert knowledge of magical creatures. We have seen more than once how this can make or break a battle.

I trust that you know how to read, and can comprehend the rest of the list. If you've any questions about a specific job you've been set to, please see Colonel Tonks. Break for ten minutes, third order of business when we return."

After taking a long draught of water from her glass resting on the mantle, she made eye contact with Severus. "Smoke?" she mouthed. He nodded and disappeared into the crowd where he met up with her at the sliding back door.

In the freezing air, Hermione offered him a cigarette. He took it, and hers, and lit them. As they watched the snow fall around them, Severus slipped his hand into hers, their skin molding and conforming to the other's.

"D'you think that was ok?" Hermione asked, her cigarette burnt half way.

He considered. "Do I think you were all right or did I think the presentation was all right?"

"Everything," she responded. "I feel like either I'm actually doing everything right, or everyone is just humoring me. I can't decide which is which yet."

He nodded, his thumb tracing minuscule circles on her palm. "I believe that the blind are following the blind."

She looked up, the hurt evident in her dark eyes.

"You misunderstand me, my girl," he tried again. "None of us know what to do. We had Dumbledore, who had it all in his screwed up brain, then Potter, who was told everything we need to know. You're no Albus and you're certainly no Potter. You are something new, something that even you have not completely figured out, and they do not know how to do anything but follow."

"There's just so much going on," Hermione confided, leaning her head closer to his chest. "I don't know anything, it feels like. I don't know why I got this giant flaming tattoo, I don't know what it means, I don't know how we're going to get the POWs back, I don't know how to destroy Riddle, I don't know where the diadem is...I don't know anything."

Severus was silent, his breath even and comforting against Hermione's cheek. He threw his cigarette butt into the snow and touched her cheek, his palms still with the scent of tobacco.

"I confess," he said. "I am not the man that you wish to divulge your insecurities to. I have no experience in comforting the afflicted."

"I am anything but afflicted," retorted Hermione. "and I expect no answers."

He was quiet, but did not withdraw. After a few long minutes, he asked quietly, "Are you fretting about our involvement?"

She shrugged. "I suppose a small amount. A few people found out by accident: Ginny and Tonks, but they're supportive. I honestly haven't had the time or the energy to think about the details of our interactions."

"When you are ready, we will discuss it," he said simply. "I am a constant man, Hermione. You need not worry your mind about us."

"Its all just happened so fast," she smiled. "and I barely have time to register it, let alone put on the brakes."

"You know as well as I do, my girl, that this has been a long time coming. Since France," he replied, gracing her with a rare smile.

"Since I was seventeen, you said," she kidded, nudging him in the ribs. "We'd better get back in before we are missed."

Glancing up at the dark sky, snow falling on his face, one more time, Severus allowed himself to be herded back into the sitting room, although, this time, he took a seat next to the fire.

"Hope you all had a good break," Hermione said once everyone had been reseated. "I'd like to move on to the third order of business for the evening. I believe that it would be best if we are all seen in the UK, so as to give the Death Eaters the idea that our headquarters is still in Britain. It will stall them and give us more time to figure out what we're doing. To this affect, I have asked Colonel Tonks and First Captain Weasley to make out a time-schedule for who and where we are to be seen."

"I have them," said Ginny. "Finished duplicating them during the break."

"Thanks," Hermione replied, taking them from her. "There will also be one posted on the bulletin board for anyone who looses theirs."

Standing up and gesturing to the paper with her wand, Ginny explained, "These schedules are mutable, but you can only move your own name. There must be two or three people in every group, not four and definitely not one."

"Also," added Tonks, "I would like to ask that someone be put in charge of monitoring everyone's whereabouts- make a sign-in sheet or something. I've looked for Neville three times today and no one knew where he was."

"Anyone want to volunteer to head up the monitoring committee?" Hermione asked. Dean Thomas raised his hand almost immediately. "Thanks, Private Thomas. Lets see, Private Patil, I'd like you to help him."

Parvati nodded, meeting eyes with Dean and grinning.

"Excellent," Hermione said. "Guidelines for activities allowed and prohibited during your sighting trips to the UK will be posted in the dining room on the bulletin board by tomorrow morning. Luna-?"

"Second Lieutenant Lovegood," Luna corrected, chewing on a strand of hair. "Yes?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'll work on portkeys?"

"Might I ask the assistance of Third Lieutenant Malfoy?" she asked, looking up at Hermione through violet mascaraed eyes.

"You may," Hermione agreed. "Fourth order of business is a standing order: why aren't our spells working against Riddle? Any ideas?"

Fred and George immediately raised their hands. "He's a hologram," said one of them.

"Unlikely," replied Hermione dryly. "I touched him."

They looked dissappointed. The oldest Weasley spoke up, "Do you think it could be a type of enchantment- like Fred and George's shield hats?"

"Good, Bill. Possible. Does anyone know of a way to dismantle such a thing?" Hermione asked, beginning to pace in front of the fire. "Ginny?"

"Selective banishing charms," she replied. "It would leave him naked."

Parvati chimed in, "I would think it would be unlikely that he would wear a shield cloak or hat. Possibly a necklace?"

"Might be," Hermione considered. "Severus, after the meeting, please examine Nott's memory for a piece of jewelry that he did not have before."

"It could be a type of full body salve," Charlie said. "We used a carrier salve at the Reserve for extensive full body burns. The carrier is charmed a certain way, in our case with healing charms, and then is coated on the body."

"Please look into whatever charms could be used to shield using a gel-type carrier." Hermione asked. "Any other ideas?"

"Is it possible," Narcissa ventured, "that the horcruxes have damaged his physiology to such an extent that he is no longer human, therefore, human curses will not affect him?"

Charlie countered, "I know from experience that most human jinxes and curses work on dragons."

"And they work on snub-nosed derbies," Luna quipped from the corner.

"What about if we use a topical potion?" asked Arthur, his fingers on his chin. "Possibly a blood-boiling potion?"

"It would cause the heart to explode in a matter of minutes," said Snape quietly from his chair, where he sat, on leg crossed over the other. "We would need something faster."

"Continue research, everyone," Hermione said. "I think we might be on to something. Does anyone else have any issues to bring up?"

"The non-flusher got the picture," said Parvati. "We've had a perfect flushing record on the second floor."

"Excellent," Hermione laughed. "If that is, it, I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix adjourned."

The chatter erupted as soon as the last syllable was out of Hermione's mouth, and she looked down at the time-chart still in her hand.

Dec. 30- 10:00-12:00 Diagon Alley Bill and Fleur

15:00-18:00 Hogsmeade Luna and Charlie

Dec. 31- 13:00-16:00 Diagon Alley Ginny and Tonks

20:00-23:00 Muggle London Hermione and Severus

Hermione looked up sharply from her paper, where she met Tonks' cheeky grin.

I give full credit to a former friend for the quote, "I am a constant man". It is not a phrase of my invention.


	19. Chapter 19

_Dear Hermione,_ (the letter began)

_I'm sure you wondering about a lot of things right about now. Why do you have a new, massive tattoo? Why am I dead? How did I know you would emerge as a leader? I can answer some, but not all of those questions. First off, I want you to know how much faith I have in you to lead all of our friends and allies to victory. I could not have done anything without you. You have been the most important strategist in this war and I know you will continue to be._

_As for the tattoo, its my little shove in the direction of the file marked 'dark marks'. It might be what the other side is using to communicate, but do not forget that they have a lot of really smart people on their side. Their strategies can be used- by you. You've been branded with the mark of the Phoenix. Yours is the master key, so to speak, and can be used to summon, like Voldemort's original mark. It's essentially the same exact mark as the Death Eater's, only prettier. All of the incantations have been figured out. Bill helped a lot. All you need to do is figure out where you want to put them, and they don't all have to be in the same place. Thank Dean for the design._

_The other files contain information- some of it compiled by me, some by Albus and some stolen from the MLE offices. There are profiles of every member of the order- totally honest profiles. Some are not flattering. Even yours notes your tendency to internalize and withdraw and become cold. There are also files on all known death eaters, all the horcruxes, and so many other things._

_Implement, if you have not already, knowing you, the plan to convince Voldemort that he made a mistake and chose the wrong baby to mark as his equal. If I'm dead, which is the only way you would be reading this, the horcrux that I believe is inside me has been nullified. You must turn his attention away from the horcruxes. Even if Neville is unable to be used as the new chosen one, he will be a perfect decoy- a distraction. If you manage to get Riddle to mark Nev as his equal, you have to destroy the last horcruxes before he makes his last strike. I've been thinking that Neville might not even have to make the last shot. We both know he isn't the chosen one. I am. Or was. Use him as a distraction. You will find a way to end him, when the time comes. With all of the horcruxes destroyed, he will be mortal._

_I have faith, Mione, that you'll be able to finish this. You will do great things. I love you._

It was signed simply.

_Harry_

It was late at night, the moon shining in through Hermione's enchanted window. Severus' slow, metered breathing calmed her as she sat up in bed, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. A tempus charm told her it was after three, but she was wide awake, and knew she wouldn't sleep until after she'd looked through all the files.

They were haphazardly organized, starting with known Death Eaters and individual files for each, then to death eater hide outs, complete with maps and portkeys that could be duplicated for each site. After that, though, it went into a jumble of pages on potential defeating blows, horcrux locations, lists of identities, safe houses and vault information. Officially, she was now the secret keeper of twenty-two safe houses.

The last folder contained one lone sheet of parchment. Glancing over to make sure Severus was still asleep, she picked up the last will and testament of Harry James Potter.

He had been thoughtful, she saw, reading down the lines of his handwriting, forced into neatness by the seriousness of the document. Magical wills were interesting, Hermione thought, because they were constantly updated through a person's life to reflect their assets at that moment. It stopped, Hermione saw, at the moment of his death.

6:18 in the evening on the day of December the twenty-fourth two-thousand and one.

She had to stop and gather her wits again. Harry is dead. She began to shiver, or possibly shake, but whatever she was doing, it was a sign of immense pain. As the world went dark around her, Hermione tried to scream, but found that she could not. The darkness clouded her peripheral vision, creeping inward, shrinking the light of her lamp until there was no more light; only the dark.

The sounds of London thundered in Hermione's ringing ears as she walked quickly down an alley between a camera store and a fish and chips shop in Leister Square. Making eye contact with a grizzled old man that she recognized as Ron-under-polyjuice, she nodded her head ever so slightly. He got up from his stoop and straightened his back before following Hermione to the rubbish bins at the end of the closed off alley.

"All right, 'Mione?" Ron asked, shivering back into his own form.

She nodded, rooting around in her beaded bag for a change of clothing for him. "Here."

"Thanks," he replied, shucking his clothes off. "Bloody frigid, eh?"

"Yeah," Hermione answered, holding out their portkey impatiently.

He finished changing quickly and put his hand on the deflated rubber ducky. "Where are we-"

Ron's words were cut off as they were hooked violently behind their navels and bodily thrown across the country to land hard on their backs on the edge of a field in Derbyshire.

"There is a death eater stronghold here," Hermione explained. "They've got Harry."

"Blimey!" Ron swore, smacking his pants to get the dust off. "When were you going to tell me?"

Hermione shrugged. "Right about now. I couldn't tell you over the mobiles- that's just plain stupid and dangerous."

"Fine," he glared. "Where is it, then?"

Looking over the field, sectioned off by low stone walls, she cast a detection charm. "If you see it before me, let me know."

Her eyes scanned the horizon hopefully, the wind blowing across her face and in her eyes, making it hard to see. A faint glimmer to the north caught her attention. "There," she said, pointing at the aura around a copse of trees.

"I see it," Ron replied. "Let's get Harry back."

As they trudged across what seemed to be a vast field, Ron asked, "Who else is with him?"

"McGonagall," she answered. "They thought that the cup might be here. It's one of the places that Riddle went on holiday with the orphanage as a boy. I'll take point when we breach the entry, right?"

"Why do you always take point?" Ron whinged, not seriously.

She smiled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Because I'm a better duelist than you are."

"Are not," he returned. "What about when I got you in that full-body bind?"

Hermione snorted lightly, in an attempt to keep quiet. "I was asleep, Ronald."

"Possibly," countered Ron, his face wide with a grin.

Magically, Hermione could feel the change in the air as she crossed the disillusionment line. It was more still, inside the spell, and more muffled, as if they were actually inside a dome. A little stone house appeared where before had been nothing, with two little windows on each side of the door.

Making eye contact with Ron, she motioned him to fall back, which he did. She crept up to the right side of the door and cast several monitoring charms. Hearing Harry's voice inside, she nodded to Ron, who quickly took his place on the other side of the door.

Reaching across the width of the door to open it, she found it unlocked.

"Silencio," she whispered, pointing to the hinges before pushing it open a few inches. Two walls separated the cottage into three sections: left, right and center hall, and effectively hid Ron and Hermione as they crept inside, leaving the door open behind them.

The rough cement floor was damp and gritty beneath their feet, and the plaster was all but ruined on the walls. Cheap wooden paneling covered the walls in the room to their left, where they heard Harry's voice.

Hermione took a peak around the edge of the wall, into the next room. Making eye contact with Harry, who was in possession of one heavily swollen black eye, she appraised the situation. Two unnamed death eaters stood on either side of Harry's chair, which he was bound to with unbreakable rope. Rodolphus Lestrange sat in a moth-eaten mauve wing-back chair in the corner, idly picking at his nails with a knife. Minerva lay prone near his feet on a thin blanket, her wrists bound behind her back and her dark hair unbound and falling over her face. Her skin was pale as snow, and bruised terribly.

Holding up three fingers, she motioned to Ron, who nodded. The slunk back out the door and cast a wordless muffliato.

"There's two thugs and Rodolphus Lestrange," Hermione said breathlessly. "I'll take out the two guards before they know what's happened and then go for Lestrange. Harry's bound to a metal chair with unbreakable rope. You won't be able to get him untied, so just pick him up or drag him with the chair out of the anti-apparation area. I'll try to keep the others busy and then escape with McGonagall, if she's alive. I don't think she is, though."

"Got it," he said, steeling his frame. Quietly as she could, she slipped back in the door, hearing Harry taunting the two men guarding him.

"Can't take me on like real men, can you?" He said. "Got to tie me up before you can hit me, right?"

A sickening crunch followed his statement. "Now we're going to do it the muggle way, eh?"

Another thud, likely a ham-like fist smashing into Harry's face. Good job, she though. Distract them while I stun 'em.

Hermione drew in a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and was perfectly still for one long moment and flattened her back against the rotting plaster.

Twirling on her left heel, she presented her body fully in the room and shot off two stunners, which caught her targets perfectly. "Lestrange," she shouted.

"Confringo" he called, whipping his wand towards her.

She countered, "Protego. Incarcerus!" Her ropes fell around his ankles feebly as he countered with a Diffendo. "Sectumsempra! Reducto! Expelliarmus!"

The sectumsempra landed, scoring a hit across his shoulder, but the other two charms were thrown off like water. "Ardeo! Carnifico!"

Lestrange's ardeo hit, grazing a wide burn across her upper arm. She countered fiercely, ducking behind the half-wall she had created with her reducto. "Go!" she shouted at Ron, who was still struggling to get Harry out the door, dragging the metal chair across the rubble strewn floor.

His eyes going dark with anger, Lestrange lunged for Harry, tied to the chair, knocking Ron out of the way bodily. "Expelliarmus!" Hermione cried, in a desperate attempt to capture Lestrange's attention.

Using a strong reducto, Hermione blew out the front wall of the house, taking with it Harry, Ron and Lestrange. When the rubble cleared and the dust settled enough for Hermione to see, she saw two men, one red haired and one dark, throwing curses wildly at each other, using the ancient oak trees as cover. Harry lay on the freeze packed earth on his side, one of his legs obviously broken. Trying to remain unseen, Hermione crept over to Harry where he was struggling against his bonds.

Their eyes met, green to brown, one obscured in pain, the other in fear.

"I've got you, Harry," Hermione whispered, using both her hands and her eyes to fumble for the knot where the unbreakable spell originated. "It's ok. Ron's going to take out Lestrange."

Her fingers, blue with cold, suddenly brushed the knot. "Got it," she muttered, aiming her wand. "Effrego seorsum infragilis!"

The ropes dropped away, their sickly yellow glow dissolving. "Help Ron," Harry whispered, shrugging himself out of the ropes.

But she couldn't. A rush came around her, with a deafening roar, and pulled her hand from Harry's. She grasped at it, but it was futile, she was being ripped away. Or was Harry being ripped away? It seemed that she was the one standing still, as she was not dizzy with the sensation of going round and round in the cyclone of spell energy.

Hermione's blood ran cold.

Harry was being pulled from her.

"Mudblood!" Lestrange shouted, his forearms locked around Harry's shoulders, forcing him to stand on his broken leg. Blood seeped through his trousers, which were already ripped and quite covered in mud. Rodolphus' face was contorted, his strangely pale eyes oozing malice. Out of his cloak he drew a knife and swiftly pressed it against Harry's throat, where it made a low, sizzling noise and began to smoke.

Sweat broke out on Harry's forehead, his teeth clamped together in pain.

"Tell me where the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is," he whispered, pressing the oddly dull-looking and white-bladed knife a millimeter deeper.

Harry struggled against his captor for a brief moment, then shouted, "Don't tell him anything, 'Mione!"

"Shut it, you," Rodolphus sneered, punching Harry in the ribs with his free hand, hard enough to make blood well up over the blade on his throat as he collapsed forward. "Where is it? Or your friend dies."

"You're barmy!" Ron cried. "Don't you know who you've got?"

Lestrange pressed a fraction harder, making Harry issue a deep, inhuman groan as his skin burned around the knife. "Neville Longbottom, he said. I want to finish what I did to his parents."

Hermione stared at him dumbly, almost forgetting he was a Death Eater at all. "Let him go," she replied, slowly and steadily moving towards him.

"Tell me where the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is," he replied, shaking Harry by his shoulders to punctuate his point.

Harry's eyes met Ron's and then Hermione's. They conveyed everything they had talked about all of the years that they had known each other. Ron's eyes stayed locked on Harry's, his wand-arm never wavering, but Hermione recessed into her memory.

_She breathed deeply, as if she had been underwater for several long minutes, after she brought her face out of the pensieve._

_"Are you sure?" she asked, looking to Severus to her right for answers._

_It wasn't Snape who answered, but the pensieve itself. Upon it's surface, a series of images danced across: a beautiful dark-stoned ring, an ornate locket with filigree on the bale, a large, golden cup with a handle, a snake, a battered looking diary, a tiara glittering with moonstones and a baby, laying in a blanket, his thumb in his mouth._

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively, her voice shaking.

"You had best make a choice, missy, or I'll do to you what I did to McGonagall," Lestrange sneered. "Or maybe I won't...maybe I'll use this knife," he looked down at it, and then slowly back up at her, his tongue making its way outside his teeth. "I found it in her rucksack. Seems to be made of bone, or summat. Burns, though, when it cuts. Doesn't it, Longbottom?"

Harry was unable to let out a cry of pain as Lestrange flicked the bone knife upward to nick at his cheek. The area around the cut began graying and dying, it seemed, and ash began to form in place of blood.

_"Tell me, Ron, again, what is the attack word?" Ginny prodded her older brother, gently._

_"Just because I forgot the go word on one training exercise doesn't mean I'll forget it ever again," he grumbled, pushing her sideways on the couch they were resting on._

_Harry smiled, his green eyes lighting up. "If you know it, then tell me. Humor me."_

_Ron rolled his eyes, but complied. "Help, help. I'm saying-"_

"Quaffle," Hermione said quietly, just loud enough for Ron to hear her, and loud enough for Harry to hear and loud enough to confuse Lestrange.

Snap! With a burst of purple-ish light, Lestrange was thrown backwards bodily by the force of Ron's nonverbal. Harry dropped to the ground, seemingly unhurt. Hermione cast a quick diagnostic. "He's knocked out. Good, Ron."

"Harry!" Ron screamed from behind her. Dread and terror filled her lungs and she forced herself to turn around.

The bone knife was in Harry's throat, ash pouring out of the opening like blood.


	20. Chapter 20

Screaming.

Screaming.

Screaming.

Everything that Hermione knew was pain. Mental pain, physical pain; excruciating pain.

Grabbing at Severus' strong arms, she found them slick and wet; warm. Hermione choked on something- something warm and wet. Blood? No...water.

"You're all right now," came Ginny's voice from behind her ear. Ginny wasn't there when Harry was killed. Was she? Harry is dead. "I think we have to do the cold."

She felt Severus nod, his chin tucking her head close to his throat. Pushed away from his warm, comforting body. All alone.

Cold. Motherfucker cold!

Hermione screamed again, suddenly more in her own body. Looking down at herself, she was in her bra and panties, completely wet, and in the second floor shower. "What the fuck is going on?" she cried, making a break for the shower door.

Severus grabbed her upper arms in a vise-like grip. "You were having a flashback," he said.

"Severus came and got me," Ginny said, smoothing her own wet hair out of her eyes. "Said you were in a right fit."

Hermione was shivering, "Can I get out now?"

Ginny and Severus exchanged looks and she replied, "Are you feeling better? Fully in your body?"

"Towel, please," Hermione growled, rubbing up and down on her wet, goosebump covered arms. Severus handed one each to Hermione and Ginny, who was standing on the tile, sopping wet in her pajamas, and began drying his hair with a third.

When they were dry, Ginny looked cautiously over at Hermione, who had wrapped her towel tightly around her shoulders and was huddled in its folds. "What happened?"

"Flashback," she mumbled, stripping off her sopping bra and panties under her towel and pulling her shorts and Severus' shirt back on.

Snape scowled at her, casting drying charms on his night clothes and Ginny's. "You should have talked about Harry's death earlier. Now you've gone and gotten post-traumatic stress."

"Not like I asked for it," she retorted, running her hand through her still-wet hair. Severus did not dry if for her, and she did not ask him to. Before exiting, she tossed a thankful look at Ginny, "Thank you."

The house was dark, and still. The clock above the stove read four thirty in the morning. Too late to fall back asleep, to early to wake up.

From the cabinet, she got out a porcelain mug and thunked it on the counter. From the upper shelves, she retrieved a bottle of brandy. Sloshing some into the mug and setting it aside, she drank, letting the liquid burn down her throat and make a fire in her belly. The taste of brandy repulsed her, but there was no whiskey or wine in the house to be drunk.

Harry's face flashed in front of her eyes, his wide, green eyes staring blankly into the cloudy sky, his throat nearly disintegrated, ash spilling onto the hard packed earth and blowing with every breeze.

She remembered Remus and Shacklebolt, apparating onto the scene and being grabbed by the two thugs, (she should have seen them as...) werewolves, who had awoken from their unconsciousness. Ron's mouth, open in a wordless howl of pain. Tendrils of her own hair, obscuring her vision of the copse of trees before her. Harry, dead.

She followed the thought with another gulp. Her stomach turning, she began to ready the kettle for a cup of tea.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Severus, his voice low and dark from the shadows of the dining room doorway.

"Making tea," she barked back at him.

In four long strides, he was at her side, jerking at her bicep until she was flush against his chest. He kissed her, deep, bruisingly and selfishly. He swirled his tongue around her teeth, and as abruptly as he had crushed her to him, he flung her away.

"I thought as much," he whispered, towering over her and pressing her back against the cool granite. "You've been drinking."

"Not that its any of your business, but fuck off," she replied neatly, her voice almost convincing him that she was not scared.

He slapped her; hard. Tasting blood, she began to fight back. "No!" he barked. "This is what you need."

She continued to swing at him, calling him every foul name in the book.

"Stop it!" he ordered. "Now stop it, Pearl. Get yourself together and trust me. I know what you need."

Finally sagging against him, she allowed Severus to nearly drag her into her room and unceremoniously drop her onto the coverlet. Before she could move, think or speak (more from her inebriation than from surprise), he had his strong fingers splaying on the back of her neck, pressing her cheek to the mattress as he pulled down her sweatshirt material shorts with his other hand. Releasing her neck, he allowed her to scoot up the bed. Her eyes were widely dilated and her breath was coming in quick pants.

"Severus?" she whispered, her dark eyes darting about the space she could see. "What are-"

"Quiet- learn to assess your own surroundings and don't ask stupid questions." He pulled his head through his shirt and dropped his pajama pants, erection already straining for her.

He ravaged her, pinning her arms above her head with a whispered spell. Kissing down her body, he bit, nipped and sucked at any bit of skin that caught his fancy, he used his fingers, wet with her own lubrication to pinch and sooth her pebbled nipples. She was beautiful, her head thrown against the white of the pillowcase, chin tossing from side to side as she fought the invisible restraints holding her wrists together.

His mouth joined his fingers in her most sensitive spot, and she tossed and raged at him, desperate for him to leave her alone and to never leave her, all at the same time. She lost articulation as he worked her, his long fingers thrusting, his mouth teasing, and came hard, deep and fast, digging her toes into the small of his back.

"Please, Se-everus," she whimpered, thrusting her hips towards him. "Please."

He rolled her to her stomach, pulling her hips into his lap so that she could feel his hardness. A sharp slap sounded through the room and she cried out, writhing in his lap. Dipping his fingertips inside her, he urged her forward before spanking again.

"Good girl," he whispered, alternating and giving her other cheek a smart slap. Soothing away the pain with his palm, he alternated slaps with comfort and his fingers deep in her cunt.

And so it went, Hermione giving herself up to him, letting him be in control of her for one long moment in time. Whack after whack rattled her body and tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was silent, floating in the security of the man holding her, letting him give her pain, and then give her pleasure. She was so confused how to feel, think, breathe or move that she did none of them; only begged for more. His fingers deeper or faster; his palm harder or more soothing.

He entered her from where she lay, careful to not aggravate the burning of her bottom. Their copulation was frenetic, fast and intense, his completion coming quite(sub. as) soon as it had began. He jerked and writhed on top of her as he called out his release, after which he released her wrists, although she kept them where they were, and began to rub her back with his hands, and press kisses to her spine.

"So beautiful," he crooned, smoothing the cool back sides of his hands over her darkly blushed arse. "You are such a good girl."

She could only nod, her cheek brushing the sheets. Seemingly from nowhere, a cool substance was applied to her rear, soothing the ache and sting. "No need for you to hurt tomorrow, my dear girl."

His hands rubbed the tingling salve in, then moved upward to knead the tension out of her neck and wrists where he had restrained her, and her tired face and to rub her scalp, all the while murmuring endearments into her ear.

"You did an exquisite job, my girl," he whispered, helping her to pull her shorts back around her hips. "Do you feel better?"

Nodding, she let him put her under the covers. He sat beside her, legs and bare feet on top of the quilt and stroked her hair as she fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

Only then did he kiss her on the temple and curve his body around hers.

Oh gods that was so much better. more your severus and hermionie. and, i think, more true to your story.

Severus woke first the next morning, but laid awake until he felt Hermione stir. He was not looking forward to the conversation they were about to have. She rolled over, tucking into a ball and pushing the crown of her head into his side.

"Morning," she whispered, her voice oddly muffled. He repeated the greeting, as he pushed his hand down the gaping neck of her borrowed shirt and stroked the soft skin of her upper back.

"Do you want coffee?" he asked, scratching lightly with short, well kept nails. She nodded, but threw her arms around his middle. "I've got to get up for that."

"I know," she replied. "You're just so very warm."

Shifting positions, they met eyes over the covers. Snape looked away first, something like embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Are you feeling well?" he inquired.

"I am," she replied. "Although a little hung over."

Their eyes met again, but neither looked away. "About last night-" he began, drawing nervous circles with his fingers on her skin.

"Do we really need to talk about it?" Hermione replied, stretching out and yawning. "Or maybe you're talking about the spanking thing."

He snorted. "Well, I certainly was not speaking of your flashback."

"I'm not totally vanilla(lol), Severus," Hermione explained, pushing her head onto his shoulder. They rolled around for a few moments, trying to find the just right position to talk in. "I occasionally indulge in deviant practices. I think everyone does."

"Little one, you have no idea..." Severus chuckled. "You needed something that I could provide."

She nodded, twining her fingers with his. "I needed to give you control. I have been so uptight about always being in control since...Harry died. I don't know what's going on anymore, Severus. I really don't. Especially with us."

Copying her, he nodded. "I understand. The ages old question: what are we?"

"I'm not asking for roses and professions of undying love," replied Hermione, pulling her gaze from him. "You've already made sure I was prepared for that."

"It doesn't mean that I am incapable of strong feeling, Pearl," he frowned. "I merely wanted to warn you then that I was not sure of my own feelings and that you should not consider our night together to be indicative of a relationship."

Staring at their joined fingers, she mumbled, "And now?"

He sighed, almost as if the subject was too complicated to breach. "As I have made clear, you are quite an addicting little thing."

"I'm aware of your sexual feelings towards me, and even some of your others," Hermione replied. "What I suppose we need to talk about are those others. We've already established that we're quite compatible as a team, whether academic or martial, and that we have diabolically good sex, but I'm not sure what is holding us together."

Nodding, he kissed her temple and said, "Why don't we get dressed and continue this conversation somewhere that isn't here?"

"Sounds good," Hermione replied. "Let me check in with Tonks and Ron and make sure nothing needs done immediately before we go."

He left a moment later, but not before pressing his hand into hers in a reassuring manner. Dressing quickly and efficiently, Hermione selected a pair off thick wool tights and a long sleeved wrap dress before ducking into the bathroom to make sure her hair wasn't sticking up all over the place. It was, of course, as is the general problem with pixie cuts, so she splashed water over it and tried to make it lay flat.

There was no one in the kitchen, but there were two people in the foyer, Dean and Parvati magically sticking twenty or so dry erase boards to the wall beside the door.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked after she had watched them for a moment.

Dean explained. "This is our way of tracking who is here and who is not. On your way out the door, you simply use the dry erase marker attached to your specific board and write your destination and your estimated time back. On the way back inside, you erase your message."

Hermione nodded. "Looks great, guys."

"Thanks, Commander," Thomas replied.

She found Tonks with Ginny in their bedroom, painting their toenails.

"Feeling better, Commander?" Ginny asked from the floor, her nails the color of daffodils.

Hermione said that she did. "I'm going to step out for a while with Snape, Tonks, if you don't have anything that needs to be taken care of immediately."

"No," Tonks smiled. "I'm fine. We can talk when you get back."

Thanking her, she went in search of Ron. She found him in Bill and Fleur's closet talking with his brother.

"Good," Hermione began. "I'll ask you both. I'm going to go out for a while, if you don't have any urgent issues."

They said they didn't so she made her way back downstairs and met Severus in the sitting room, where he was looking over Ernie's shoulder as he watched a program on the Discovery channel.

"Ready?" she asked brightly, offering him his coat.

For a few moments it looked as though Hermione was driving indiscriminately, but she eventually pulled into the parking lot in front of a large Barnes and Noble store. "I thought we could look at books while we talk. In case there's an awkward silence."

He bought them more coffee at the Starbucks counter inside and they made their way nearly consensually to the non-fiction where they browsed the shelves with only half their attention.

"So," Hermione began, thumbing over a book on the black plague. "What's going on?"

Severus shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels for a moment. "I'm assuming you are alluding to our pseudo relationship?"

"I am," she replied, placing the book back on the shelf and reaching for another on the Magna Carta.

"I am not a pleasant-"

"I know," Hermione neatly cut him off. "You're not a pleasant man. Point taken. You're also old enough to be my father. Noted. You were once a Death Eater. Cool. Have I missed any of the usual excuses?"

"No," he replied dryly. "I think you've been quite thorough."

"I don't do partnerships," Hermione warned. "I'm a very self sufficient gal, or so you may've noticed. I don't want anyone to complete me, make me whole or be my other half. I am looking for someone to walk with, so to speak."

Considering, he pulled out a thick paperback book on the French October Massacre. He shivered. Gruesome. "I want my space. And when I say that I want space, you had best give it to me. I'm not looking for your nosy chit side to rear its head any time soon."

"And I will not be owned, no matter how possessive you may be," Hermione retorted, setting her cup down audibly on a shelf to put both fists on her hips.

He seethed, "I am a constant individual. Once my trust and respect has been gained, I do not forsake."

"And I am my own person, and will act as my conscience dictates!" she bit back. "And I want my space as well!"

"Good," replied Severus, running the fingers of both hands through his short hair. "I don't want you simpering around because I haven't paid enough attention to you."

"Fine," Hermione growled. "I see that we are in agreement."

"I will expect you to be loyal," Snape asserted, testing the water a bit and allowing himself to make eye contact with Hermione.

She snorted. "I would expect the same. I don't want to catch whatever enchanted STD some other trollop you've slept with has."

Softening, he put his fingers on her chin to make her look up at him. "You don't mean that, Pearl. You're just scared? You don't have to be so brave all the time."

"I do," she replied, forcing her head away from his grasp so that he would not see her glistening irises. "I've got to use the ladies."

Turning abruptly, she left him standing alone in the history section while she blindly sought out the bathroom, where, presumably, she would try to put herself together.

After several nose-blows and the reapplication of her mascara, Hermione emerged from the loo a bit ashamed of their outburst. Severus was waiting for her in a large, overstuffed armchair outside the bathroom doors.

He offered a fresh cup of coffee in atonement. Taking it, Hermione lowered herself onto the arm of the chair and blew over the steaming liquid.

"Thanks," she croaked.

"I believe we got off to the wrong start," he began. "I would like to rephrase and say that I am an intensely private man who does not give loyalty easily or freely, and I am offering it to you, with the caveats that you only interact with me. Interact in the way we have been, that is."

"I am very independent and I will not take kindly to someone trying to possess me," she returned, a slight smile turning up the edges of her lips. "But, I am willing to let down my guard a touch and form a commitment to you."

"I see we are in agreement," replied Severus, using the same words she had used in malice only a quarter of an hour before.

Hermione giggled softly. "Are you my boyfriend?"

Severus glared.


	21. Chapter 21

I'm sorry its so short, but I'm doing bathroom renovations this week. You can find out more information at my blog, thebuescherproject, if you are so inclined.

Also on my blog, which can be found by simply googling thebuescherproject, is a page titled 'In The Ashes' and has bonus content, right now including a floor plan of the Fake Colonial and inspiration pictures of the characters.

As always, I thank you for your love and support.

And I thank the beautiful Inness for her beta-loving.

Unfortunately, they could not stay in the innocuous, white-washed world of the local Barnes and Noble. After another cup of coffee and paying for their purchases (a copy of the complete works of Victor Hugo for Severus; a book from the medical section on battle field medicine and a bit of trash for Hermione) they left to return to the Fake Colonial.

As they entered the house again, Hermione stopped to speak with Dean about a special tracking spell they might want to use that would automatically erase upon returning the out of the house message the person had written on their board as they went out. Snape crept down to the cellar to fiddle around with some base or another, squeezing her hand secretively as he walked by. After she was done talking with Dean, Hermione walked through the house, making sure everyone knew that there would be a meeting that evening.

"Commander," Ernie addressed Hermione as she went through the kitchen. "Can I talk to you about the rescue mission?"

"Specialist," she returned. "At ease."

He nodded, spreading out a few sheets of paper over the counter. "I've reviewed Nott's memory rather extensively, and from what I've been able to identify, they're almost definitely on the island of North Rona. Its pretty much the island at the end of the world."

"Geographics, please," Hermione asked, pulling up a stool and settling in next to him.

Ernie launched into an explanation of the particulars of the island, "It's smallish, around 270 acres in size and shaped with a central bit with three arms, so to speak. It's eleven miles east of Sula Sgeir, making it the most remote British Isle. They are in what appears to be the ruins of St. Ronan's Chapel, from the eighth century. There's only one room, and only kind of. None of the werewolves guarding them are very good at magic, so they have a tarp over the walls for a ceiling. It looks like someone put up weather regulating charms on the area, so our hostages are warm and dry by proxy."

"Do you think we could land directly on North Rona?" asked Hermione, tracing her finger around the perimeter of the island.

He shook his head. "I think there are wards in place. Best to land on Sula Sgeir and boat."

"Great," she muttered. "Is Sula occupied?"

"Definitely not," Ernie replied, pulling out a printed picture of the skerry. "It's one damn big rock."

Hermione took Ernie's marker and began tracing a two routes from Sula Sgeir to North Rona. "We could portkey, here, to the base of the lighthouse, then brooms for North Rona. One team can land here, on the north side, and the other from the south."

"The north is very treacherous," he pointed out. "Loads of rocks and caves. It would be hard to make a landing with brooms."

"Boats, then?" Hermione asked. "On the North Atlantic in mid-winter?"

"Best way, I'm thinking. Winds and visibility can be very poor this time of year flying. But ask Lieutenant Colonel Weasley, ma'am, not me. He's a far better flier."

"I will," replied Hermione. "I just loathe to take my troops on the water this time of year."

Ernie pondered the issue for a moment. "I'll see if there's any other way to work this out, right?"

"Thanks, and good work, Ern," said Hermione, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Can you present the work this evening at the meeting?"

He said that he could and Hermione retreated to her room for a bit of solitude before dinner. Her mind would not rest, though.

Severus.

His name weighed heavily on her mind. He was her _boyfriend._ She laughed out loud, then sobered. How in the name of _Merlin _was this going to work out?

And why was she thinking of this now? She was about to send troops, including herself, into the North Atlantic in January. _I must be the worst person alive._

Before her thinking could go any further, Hermione promptly grabbed her wand and banished the writing on her wall before grabbing her thick black marker and beginning again.

In her wide, looping writing, she wrote the largest: _How to get to North Rona?_

Pursing her lips, she wrote under that: _broom, boat, threstral. _Looking at it again, she erased brooms. She had to trust her troops. Sometimes, they knew more than her, but it was a bitter pill to chew. Boat it was, or threstral if they could manage it, but probably boats.

Hermione didn't know how to swim, which she thought was just peachy in this situation.

Continuing, she traced a large map of North Rona onto the wall, followed by all the geographic markers including St. Ronan's Chapel Ruins. She drew route of attack after route of attack until she was finally satisfied with their egress.

A soft knock on the door startled Hermione out of her musings. "Come in," she called.

Narcissa slipped in the door, closing it behind her almost silently. Dressed again in a witch's robes, she cut a fine figure coming to sit on the chair at Hermione's desk.

"My husband comes tonight for Nott," she said quickly, without preamble. "I want to stay the night with him out of the house."

Hermione's back prickled, a strange feeling. "We have a meeting tonight," she replied. "I'm not sure how late that will go. I need to talk with a few other people- its possible that they both need to return to England tonight."

Deflated, Narcissa continued. "I haven't seen him in so long."

"I know," said Hermione, rubbing her palm across her forehead. "But we all have to do things we don't want to do. You've done so well this far, I need you to just keep trusting me."

"I do," Narcissa answered softly.

Hermione melted a bit. "I'll see if you and Lucius can stay in the extra cellar room this evening, if you like. I'm just not sure about you being out without another senior member of the order."

Brightening, Narcissa replied, "Thank you. It will be nice to see him."

"Go on and talk to Severus. Make sure he isn't using the room for anything," directed Hermione. "What time will your husband arrive?"

"He will be here before dinner," said Narcissa, getting up from the chair.

Hermione stopped her at the door. "I'm betting that if you ask Captain Weasley nicely, she'd be willing to drive you, Draco and your husband to a restaurant for dinner so that you can have some catch up time."

Not five minutes after Narcissa left in search of Ginny and Severus, another knock. This time, it was Ginny.

She stuck her head into the room, leaning on the door frame for support. "Just wanted to remind you that you and Snape have patrol in England tomorrow night."

"Yeah, thanks," replied Hermione dryly, not looking up from her scribblings on the wall.

"I know of this little place you might want to go to...romantic-ish," she sauntered in the room and shut the door behind her.

Hermione glared. "I'm not one for romance, Gins, you know that."

"It's muggle. I'm going to make you a reservation," she replied. "And don't eat lunch, it'll be about three in the afternoon our time. "

"Ginny."

"Hermione," Ginny replied exasperatedly. "I know what you've been doing this afternoon, OK? You went out with Snape, had the conversation about what you were to each other, decided that you were meant to be and you came back and remembered that you're leading a war and you must be a bad person for falling in love while doing it."

"I'm not falling in love," retorted Hermione.

"That's what you choose to refute? Gods, I'm good," she said, sitting down on the edge of her bed and tucking an errant curl behind her friend's ear. "Listen to me."

Hermione did not look up.

"Listen," Ginny said, this time with more force. Hermione looked up. "I know how you must be feeling. Harry felt that way all the time. But give Snape more credit, 'Mione. He knows what he's getting into. He knows he might loose you. People always remember heros, but behind every hero is someone who knows that the hero might die at any moment. And they're prepared for it. I was prepared for it. Harry and I talked a lot about what would happen when he died. Notice I said when. Harry knew he was a horcrux and knew he was going to die. But he didn't waste his time on earth isolating himself so that no one would be devastated when he died. He _lived_, Hermione."

Ginny's voice broke and she swiped angrily at her eyes with the sleeve of her brown sweater. Hermione reached out a tentative hand and laid it on Ginny's shoulder.

"I'll try," she whispered, wrapping her arms around Ginny, who did the same, her fists balled in her sleeves. "And you can make the reservation. You can even pick out a dress for me."

She gave a funny sort of half laugh half hiccough and wept a few last tears before pulling her head away from Hermione's shoulder. "Really?" Ginny asked.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Hermione retorted. "Really."

"Thanks," sniffled Ginny.

Hesitating, Hermione said, "Since we're already crying and talking about Harry, I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" Ginny asked, blowing her nose noisily into a handkerchief.

"Harry left a will," replied Hermione, pulling it out of her desk drawer, "and he left some things to you. Do you want to talk about it now?"

"I already knew about the will," Ginny said, taking the piece of paper from Hermione. "I told him not to leave me Grimmauld Place. What in the world am I going to do with a ghastly London townhouse filled with dark artifacts?"

"Live in it?" Hermione suggested. "And, he left you a chunk of money, too."

"I know. When I go to London this week, I'm going to transfer it into the Order's accounts," replied Ginny, not taking her eyes from the will. "He left you his share in the Quibbler, Hermione."

"That's just like him," she replied, getting off the bed and opening her closet to get out an outfit appropriate for the meeting that evening. "On another note, and I'm sorry that I'm skipping around a lot, but I have this running list of everything I need to talk to anyone about and sometimes its not quite in order. Will you drive the Malfoy's someplace to have dinner after Lucius arrives this evening?"

"Sure," Ginny shrugged, evidently not as upset by the will as Hermione had expected her to be. "Where do you want me to take them?"

"Just someplace. Not too fancy- maybe the little joint we went to when I got tattooed," Hermione answered, choosing a dark collared shirt and slacks for the meeting. "Where would you like a phoenix tattoo?"

"A phoenix tattoo?"

"Yeah," said Hermione. "Like mine, but smaller. Works like the dark mark does."

"That's what Bill was working on this past summer with Harry," Ginny exclaimed. "You should wear the red shirt instead."

"Really?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose at the shirt. "And, you knew about the mark?"

"Kind of," answered Ginny. "And I think I'd like it on my forearm, like an anti-dark mark. You look better in red."

"Ok," said Hermione, taking off her lounge clothes and exchanging them for the more authoritarian look. "I've got to talk to Bill, but I think we'll do them tonight."

"Will it hurt?" Ginny asked, beginning to braid her hair idly over her shoulder. "When I am in a lot of pain I tend to throw up. If it hurts a lot, I'm not going to eat dinner."

Hermione snickered. "Don't eat, then, and we'll do you first."

"Oh, great," she slumped back onto the pillows. "Did yours hurt?"

"You were there," Hermione said, sitting at her desk to pull on socks. "Like hell for about three seconds and then nothing."

Ginny considered. "I've been under the _cruciatus _for five seconds before. I think I can handle three."

"I'm sure you can handle much more than you ever thought, Miss Weasley," Hermione replied. "Come on, get up. You're going to go ask Bill if he can help do the marks tonight."

"Fine," Ginny said as she rolled out of the bed. "But I can really make reservations for you and Snape for tomorrow?"

"Get out, Ginny."

Hermione finished getting dressed and put together her notes before joining the others in the kitchen where Molly was readying the evening meal.

"Smells lovely, Molly," Hermione said, kissing her surrogate mother on her plump cheek. "Thank you for making it."

"Just a little pot roast," she replied with a wink. "And a few other things."

"Does the table need set?" asked Hermione as she got into the refrigerator for a soda. Molly shook her head 'no' and Hermione left to wait in the sitting room for Malfoy to come through the floo.

Ernie, the twins, Lee Jordan, Ron and Padma were lounging around the television once again, this time the channel set to re-runs of Mythbusters and an episode about bullet proof vests. As a bullet whizzed across the screen and the barriers of sound rippled around it in a watery sort of plastic way, Hermione began to get an idea.

_Holy Fuck_, Hermione thought. _We're going to kill Voldemort with a muggle hand gun._


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you again, everyone. I appreciate it more than I can say.

Again, there's more content on my blog, thebuescherproject, under the tab titled 'In The Ashes'!

Hermione's voice had not been amplified by a spell, but people still snapped to attention when she spoke, although it was barely more than a normal volume.

"I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to order," she said, taking her place in front of the fireplace. "Petty Officer Patil, the reading of the minutes please."

"Meeting number four-thousand six-hundred and twenty three, beginning at seven fifty eight in the evening on December the thirtieth. Last time we met was December the twenty-ninth at eight in the evening, lasting an hour and thirty four minutes," Padma began, reading from her parchment. "All in attendance, excepting newly discovered POWs Lupin, Shacklebolt, Podmore and Brown. First order of business was..."

Hermione zoned out a bit, although she knew she shouldn't have, and reviewed her notes for her second order of business- the guns. Was she crazy? Or did it have just the right amount of surprise to actually win? After Harry had died, they were running- the world had fallen around them and they had _lost_.

Had any of them actually ever fired a gun? Hermione hadn't. It seemed like the kind of thing Severus would have done. How would they get good enough to actually hit him? Would everyone need a gun? No...someone would get shot accidentally if Parvati Patil had a dangerous weapon at her disposal.

"Commander?" Padma said, for what was probably not the first time.

Clearing her throat, Hermione began. "Sorry, Petty Officer. For our first order of business, I'd like to call Specialist MacMillian to tell the group about the location of our POWs."

Ernie stood up and waved his wand a few times before enlarged copies of the maps Hermione had seen floated above the fireplace. "Right, then. As you can see, we've isolated the island of North Rona as the spot where our comrades are being held. It's way out in the middle of nothing, very remote. There are moderate level wards erected on the island itself, so we cannot send a party directly onto the island. The squadrons will have to portkey here," the map zoomed out to show the surrounding ocean, including the skerry of Sula Sgeir, "and take boats to North Rona, eleven miles away. Brooms were mentioned, but as Lieutenant Colonel Weasley will attest, the North Atlantic in January is not where you want to be in flight, unless you want to die or worse, freeze your bollocks off."

"Right you are!," called Ron from the back of the room, amid chuckles.

"Commander Granger and I have spoken, and we think that the best landing sites will be here," he indicated the north landing spot with a dot, "and here. I believe we can work on self-guiding equipment for the boats, like, they'll take you directly to your landing site without having to navigate. I would like to enlist Lieutenant Lovegood for her charm work."

Luna spoke up. "Captain Malfoy wants to work on it too, but he's too sheepish to ask because he thinks I'll read too much into it, which I will and I'll be right."

Draco flushed deeply. "Thanks, Luna," he mumbled, not looking directly at her, and definitely not at his father.

"Right-o, then. Captain Malfoy assisting Lieutenant Lovegood," Hermione said, looking at Padma to make sure she had heard properly. "I would like you, Private Thomas, to go with Lieutenant Longbottom and Captain Charlie Weasley to an outdoor store and 'procure' two crafts. I hope you take my meaning, gentlemen."

"These," Ernie continued, flashing new images, "are pictures of St. Ronan's Chapel, where our men are being held."

"And women," called Tonks.

"And women," Ernie verified.

Hermione let the images cycle through twice before speaking. "Thank you, Specialist MacMillian. For our second order of business, I would like to make a demonstration." From a nearly hidden holster at the small of her back, Hermione drew a shiny, long barreled double action revolver, large more for effect than for practicality. "Does anyone who is not of muggle heritage know what this is? Corporal Jordan?"

"It's a gun, Commander," he said, cocking his head to the side. "We saw them on the telly."

"Exactly right. As I make this demonstration, I want you to think about what would happen to you if you were on the opposite end of this weapon," said Hermione as she gestured to Severus to come up and test the shields around the projectile. When he nodded that they were all sufficient, he drew the cloth off of the object on one of the end tables revealing half of a pot roast, left over from dinner. With sweating hands, Hermione took aim, only three feet away from the platter.

The shot nearly knocked her backwards, but she did not fall. After the bang that half of the room was not expecting, a collective gasp came up, and when Hermione opened her eyes, she saw that the pot roast had been pulverized and spread across half of the room, covering the occupants, furniture and walls in beef.

"That would suck," commented Luna eloquently as she picked pieces of beef out of her hair. "Are you going to shoot Voldemort?"

"Exactly, Lieutenant," Hermione said, laying the gun down on the mantle and trying to hide her shakes. "What do you think would happen to you if I shot you? Anyone? Mr. Malfoy?"

The patrician man had not yet spoken a word to Hermione this evening, but he turned his sloe-eyed gaze on her and answered. "I presume I would be quite bloody, especially if I did not see it coming and throw up a shield."

"And, Mr. Malfoy, what would happen if I were to shoot Riddle?" goaded Hermione, slowly moving across the carpet towards the blonde.

"He would experience pain and his shell might possibly be destroyed," he supplied.

Hermione clapped. "Spot on. Lieutenant Colonel Weasley, why can't we use spells against Riddle?"

"Because," Ron began, beginning to catch on, "for one reason or another, he's made himself a walking shield charm."

"Major Snape," Hermione whirled on him. "Do shield charms protect the caster from being punched?"

"They do not, Commander," Severus said from his post at the side of the room. Hermione could almost see a hint of a smile smoldering under his austere expression.

"So if Lieutenant Longbottom were to punch Voldemort in the scaly face, would it hurt?" asked Hermione, watching the room slowly see what she was saying.

"Longbottom's fist-" shot Fred.

George finished, "Or Moldywart's face?"

"It would cause you-know-who to feel pain," Neville answered.

Hermione let a triumphant smile cross her face, "And, Staff Sergeant Weasley, based on that assumption, what would happen if Riddle got a cut?"

Molly was quick on the uptake. "He would bleed."

The room was rapt, their attention caught on a taut string, which Hermione held in her fingers. When the room was as silent as it could get and every member was at attention, she whispered, "And what would happen if we shot Riddle, like I did that pot roast?"

No smart remarks from the twins, and no movement.

"Take a break and meet back here in ten," Hermione said, her voice level, but inside she was shaking with adrenaline.

She forced herself to walk calmly to the back deck, but as soon as she was outside, she ran to the edge of the lawn and was promptly sick as soon as she fell to her knees.

"Holy _fuck_," she whispered, wiping at her mouth with her sleeve.

A cool flannel was placed against the back of Hermione's sweating neck. She jumped, letting it fall to the ground. Gently, Severus picked it back up, crouching behind her, and sponged it on her clammy skin.

"Thanks," she croaked. "I've never shot a gun before."

"No one could tell," he whispered, moving the cloth around to her forehead. "Everyone just thought that one fired a gun with their eyes closed."

"Leave me be," she joked, leaning back into his chest. "I felt like there was some good work done in there."

"I agree," replied Severus, helping Hermione to her feet. "I would not have gotten in a car and stolen a firearm for you, which is a third degree felony, if I did not believe in your idea."

"That was amazing, by the way," Hermione added. "Do you know anything about guns?"

"No," he replied, taking her by the arm and helping her up the steps and into the house. "I just chose the flashiest one."

"Well, I almost couldn't pull the trigger all the way. It was really hard!" she whispered as they sat down at the counter in the kitchen.

"Coffee?" Severus asked, pulling the pot from its warmer.

"No thanks. I'll just get some water. My stomach seems a little goofy still, " Hermione replied, making to get up.

"Sit," commanded Severus. "I'll not have the rest of the contents of your stomach on the tile."

Hermione thought this was adorable.

She drank, and upon Severus' insistence, she also took a nerve-calming solution. With a much clearer head, she called the meeting back into session.

"Now that we've all had time to think," Hermione began, "I would like to open the floor for comments, questions and concerns."

Almost immediately, Lucius Malfoy spoke up. "Have we exhausted every other possibility?"

"No," replied Hermione, shaking her head. "We haven't. But the news that you have brought us, Mr. Malfoy, that Hogwarts has indeed been taken over as well as the ministry and the Auror department, we must act quickly in order to save lives."

"The muggle-born commission is rounding them up faster than ever," Theodore Nott mumbled loud enough for the others to hear. "They say Azkaban is overflowing with them."

"If this has never been done before," Arthur Weasley said, "how do we know it will get rid of him once and for all?"

"I am confident," Hermione said. "because both Harry and Albus had been going down this vein of thought, only their idea was to make him mortal by destroying horcruxes and then using a spell or an enchantment to destroy his mortal body and mind."

"It has an element of surprise," Ginny said, "that Harry was looking for. I can't tell you the hours he spent looking for a way to defeat Riddle quick enough that he could not have a counter-spell to fix himself up."

"But couldn't we use a simple _avada_?" questioned Charlie. "There is no shield that can save you from that."

Neville shook his head. "He would be looking for that, and especially from me. He's marked me as his equal, and he would expect me to try to do just that. If we use a killing curse, what would that do to one of us? Would our souls split, like it had when he killed the Potters? And what if it doesn't work on him? Then we have no plan."

"I assure you," spoke Snape from his dark corner, "that merely using the killing curse is not enough to split your soul."

"You'd know-" Ron began, before he was elbowed sharply in the ribs by his sister.

Hermione turned an icy gaze on her oldest friend. "I would expect more from you, Lieutenant Weasley. Go take care of the dishes for Staff Sergeant Weasley, and when you're done, I'll expect you to have something more useful to say."

"But 'Mio-" Ron started, his face coloring as red as his tee shirt.

"But what, Lieutenant Colonel?" hissed Commander Granger. "You're dismissed."

He left, thundering into the kitchen. Pots crashing together echoed through the still house.

"Silencio," Severus said lazily and instantly the kitchen clatter was silent.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "If any one of you has a personal comment to make, I suggest you do it on your own time. The reasons that I believe using a muggle method to be better are multiple. One, the bastard will never see it coming. Two, multiple people can be armed and whomever gets the clearest shot should take it. Three, after his demise, trained scientists can conduct an autopsy, or an examination of his body after death, and we can learn exactly how he made himself impervious to magic. It is a very valuable tool we could have."

Bill said, "I know a few curse-breakers that would be dying to see how that one worked."

"And we could charm them to silence," Luna commented.

"On a completely different line of thinking, eez there a way zhat we could use his dark mark after he eez dead to call zee other death eaters to where we can contain zhem?" Fleur asked. "Zee killing curse would be felt by all of heez death eaters, no? If he eez killed by a muggle weapon, zhey would not know, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "With that, I would ask that we put that order of business on hold for a few minues and move on to a third. Lieutenant Major, could you please explain the work that you and Harry did on disassembling the dark mark?"

Standing up, Bill began to speak. "This summer, Major Snape, Harry and I did some work on duplicating the dark mark. Harry had the idea that we could use a similar mark for our own purposes, mainly communication. We would not have to be rescuing our four comrades if they had a mark."

"A few of us have just given up marks that bind us," Narcissa said, putting her hand on her son's shoulder. "Why would we want to take another?"

"Good question," Bill said. "For one, this is the side of the light. The mark will not be used for spying, torture or maliciousness. It will be used to communicate and to track in time of distress, such as if you would have been captured."

"I can assure you," said Severus, "that many precautions and safety measures have been put into the development."

"And I already have my mark," Hermione explained, unbuttoning her blouse to reveal a rather concealing sports bra and her vivid, bright phoenix.

"I'll go first," Draco said, rolling up his sleeve to show the marbled, mangled skin of his inner forearm. "I trust my commander."

Hermione looked at Draco, her gaze saying everything that she couldn't say out loud: thank you, this means a lot to me, you are truly a good man.

"Marking will not be required," Hermione said. "but is requested. Staff Sergeant Molly Weasley has kindly lent us her bedroom to perform the work. It does not take more than five minutes apiece and will begin directly after the meeting concludes. I hope you all follow in Captain Malfoy's footsteps and take this step for your cause. Are there any more items to discuss?"

Parvati stood up, almost nervously, "Commander, we would like to have a party on Saturday night, commemorating the New Year's Holiday."

"Private," Hermione puzzled, "New Year's has passed."

Coloring, Parvati continued, "We didn't celebrate it, though, Commander, because you were unconscious."

"I think it sounds fun," ventured Ginny. "And you won't have to do any work- you and the Professor have a patrol in London that day."

Hermione snorted, then acquiesced. "Knock yourselves out. If there is no more else to discuss, I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix adjourned. Draco, take ten and we'll meet you in the bedroom."


	23. 23 Sorry! I

As it had been agreed upon, Draco met Hermione and Bill in the small first floor bedroom after he had prepared to take the Mark of the Phoenix. The lights were dimmed and Molly had made sure there were plenty of fresh pillows on the bed for the one being marked to lean their head against. Two lavender-lemon scented candles provided any spot lighting that Bill would need for the incantation.

Perching herself on the edge of the bed, Hermione dropped several white flannel cloths into a never-spill bowl, size extra large, to soak in cool water.

"Are you going to sponge my forehead like a good little nurse, Granger?" drawled Draco, trailing his fingers across the surface of the water, breaking the tension.

Hermione glared, "Watch it, Captain."

He snickered, punching her lightly in the upper arm. "I took one for the team for you. You're going to have to be my servant for like, a month."

"I doubt that," replied Hermione dryly. "I can't count how many times I've saved your scrawny arse."

Draco had the grace to look indignant. "What? You've never-"

"I'll start with Christmas Eve, how I spirited you out of England, performed a _surgery _that I had no idea how to do _and _then carted you to Spain- all right?" a smile began to form on her face. "Punk."

Using the back of his hand to sweep his dark bangs out of his face, "Prove it."

Hermione let a frustrated growl escape her throat.

"Well, if that's settled," Bill interjected, smiling. "I'd like to get started."

"Why are you doing it? Riddle marked his followers, not someone else," Draco questioned, but snapped to attention none the less.

Bill pulled a cane backed chair close to the bed before answering. "With our mark, there are a few extra things that happen. It doesn't matter who gives the incantation, it matters, though, if Commander Granger activates the mark- she has to have the intention to accept whomever as a full Order member. I couldn't just go mark someone on the street; Hermione has to know them to be loyal. It's a subconscious thing."

"Right, then," said Draco. "Can I get some numbing salve?"

"I'm going to ask you not to take a pain potion, Captain," Bill requested Draco. "The only reason being this: we don't know what it will do to the magic of the mark. The death eaters are certainly not given pain relieving potions."

"Yes," grimaced Draco. "I remember."

Hermione instructed Draco to lay on the bed with his arm cradled in Bill's lap, off the side of the mattress. He complied, taking off his expensive looking shoes first so as not to sully the Weasley matriarch's coverlet, and began what Hermione recognized as a deep breathing exercise.

"Good, Draco," Hermione soothed, squeezing the water out of flannel for his face after the pain came. The water made a joyful sounding tinkle as it dropped back into the bowl. She wore a ring on her right index finger, a filigreed silver band with an oval shaped stone, and it slipped to the side in the cold water.

Bill rolled Draco's sleeve up and gently placed his left hand on the vulnerable, thin skin of the opposite side of his elbow. Wand pressed to the mottled skin of Draco's arm, he whispered the incantation.

"_Fidelitas vestigium._"

Dark stars blossomed in Hermione's eyes and a wail was rent from her throat. The white flannel washcloth was dropped on the sheets as she crumpled to the floor. Pulsing, white hot pain flowed from every part of her body, through her veins and to her right arm, where it formed a ball of pain that swirled and twisted to a climax and disappeared.

She opened her eyes warily, a throbbing pain in her hands and knees where she had fallen to the carpet. Her vision cleared, gold sparkles dotting her peripherals.

"What the _fuck_?" mumbled Hermione, gingerly flexing her joints.

Draco was so startled by her outburst, he didn't even glance at his new tattoo over the place where his dark mark once was. If one had been able to take the time to actually appreciate the poetry of the moment instead of wondering why his commanding officer had just had a seizure, they might be moved to tears.

Draco stared at her with wide eyes. "What was that, Granger?"

Pulling up her sleeve, Hermione stared at her arm, where a tiny black star had shown up halfway between her wrist and elbow. "I get one too? Damnit, Weasley, you just told me I'd have to activate their mark."

"That's what I thought...I was mistaken?" asked Bill, hastening over to her to look. "Press your hand to your mark, Draco. Let's see what it does."

He did, his fingers touching the phoenix on his forearm. A pleasant bubbly sensation answered the touch on Hermione's arm, centered under the star.

"Now you, Hermione," Bill said. "I assume this is how it is activated."

With a bit of hesitation, Hermione put her finger to Draco's star. The air snapped, and Draco disappeared only to reappear a split second later next to Hermione. They banged their heads together as they both crumbled to the ground.

"Wow!" cried Bill. "Wasn't expecting that one..."

"Ouch," Hermione growled. "Do I have to do this for every member?"

"Every one that wants one," Draco replied with little malice, extending his hand to help her up.

"Ouch," she repeated.

"That was bad ass!" whooped Bill. He looked at the two glaring daggers at him. He then inquired with an air of deep concern, "Do you need a break?"

Nearly snarling, Hermione shook her head. "I want a chair brought in for the person being marked to sit on. I'm taking the bed, got it?"

Draco and Bill made eye contact as Hermione climbed onto the bed and made herself comfortable. Shrugging, Bill opened the door and they brought in an armchair from the sitting room.

"I'm going to get Major Snape," Bill said, actually thinking of the ramifications of this development. "He might know if there is anything we can do to lessen your pain."

"Whatever," Hermione mumbled, beginning her own deep breathing exercise and entering a meditative state. Resigning herself to a long night of pain ahead of her, she gave up her fear little by little.

Severus' dark form came into the room quietly with a cool glass of water. "Drink," he commanded, lightly pressing the back of her head upwards.

She did, a bit sloshing down her chin, which he wiped off with a clean rag. "Thanks."

They made eye contact for a long moment, trying desperately to convey everything they were thinking in one look. Hermione broke the silence first.

"You guys really didn't have a fucking clue what was going to happen when the mark was made, did you?" she asked dryly.

Snape sputtered in indignation. "I'll have you know that bond marks like these have minds of their own. They manifest how they like."

"I got this little star," she replied, showing him the pale underside of her arm. "See?"

He grunted. "At least its nicer looking than that scull and vomited snake."

Letting him stroke his fingers up and down her arm, she settled back and closed her eyes. Severus began to hum to the symphony that was playing, a low, enchanting melody. Letting herself be lost in the movement of his fingers on her skin and in the music, Hermione drifted.

"I'm going to go next," he said after a few long moments. Gently pulling his hand away from her still arm, he took his jacket off and laid it over the arm of the chair provided for him. "I want to see if there is anything I can give you to ease the pain."

"I want this to work," Hermione said, opening her eyes a bit. "I don't want to do anything that will compromise the integrity of the mark."

"It is a lot of pain, my girl," Severus advised, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her forehead.

She shrugged, closing her eyes again and nestling into the pillows, which smelled comfortingly of flour, rose water and cinnamon: Molly Weasley. "Just get on with it, please."

"Bill," Severus called out quietly, "let's do my mark."

A soft slash of light cut into the room, then disappeared.

Oh God, it was going to hurt so bad. It didn't matter.

Severus moved away from Hermione's side, his warmth already missed.

The incantation. Pain, putting in its hooks in her veins, crawling through her brain, ripping out of her throat in a howl. Panting, shaking, sweating. No more pain.

Through the after haze of her pain, she heard Severus and Bill.

"Does she need to be here?" Severus whispered tightly, his own breath uneven.

"I don't know," Bill replied. "I just know that she has to activate every mark."

Hermione's fingers fumbled around on her arm and she found the new star, at the very top of her wrist, at the end of her life line curving down her palm. Fingering it, she braced for the impact of Severus' body. The air snapped again, and Severus was thrown into her. "Activated," she said groggily.

"I'm putting up a barrier," growled Snape, pulling himself off of her. "The last thing she needs is to have every member of the order smash into her one after the other."

"Go get the next person," ordered Hermione, throwing her hand towards the door.

Bill hesitated, "Don't you think-"

"Lieutenant Major Weasley," she exclaimed shrilly, her eyes flying open- cinnamon colored with rage, "I told you to get the next member."

Without another word, but a glance exchanged with Snape, Bill left the room.

"Foolish little girl," Severus whispered, laying the cloth over Hermione's forehead.

Hermione snorted. "I'm not a little girl."

"To me you are," he replied gently. "I'm twenty years your senior."

Shaking her head she replied. "No you're not. You were born in January of nineteen sixty, and I was born in September of nineteen seventy eight. At the moment, you are eighteen years older than me. You were young for your class, I was old."

"I've never told you my birthday," he scowled. "You babble when you need distracting."

"For ease of remembering, the month and day are the same on your fake passport," she explained, rambling a bit more. "But don't worry, I won't get you a birthday present."

"You had best not," replied Severus, sponging the cool cloth down her face, which she burrowed into his leg as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Could you-" began Hermione, then stopped.

Severus leveled an even gaze on his young lover. "Could I...?"

"It's nothing," she mumbled. "I was going to ask you to stay with me while the marks are going on, but I'll be fine. I need to be _better._"

"You expected me to leave?" He inquired, pulling up her chin to make her look at him. When their eyes met, his softened. "Silly girl."

Hermione lay back comfortably, her body curled around Snape's as he sat. After a moment, the door opened again.

"Erm, hey, 'Mione," Ron said gingerly. Hermione opened and quickly shut her eyes again. He tried again, this time addressing Snape. "Major Snape, I owe you an apology for my outburst at the meeting this evening. I know that you have done what is necessary for our cause and I am sorry."

Severus was silent, but after a moment nodded his head at the younger man. "Accepted."

Ron sat in the chair and pulled his shirt off over his head, indicating to Bill that he would like the mark on his bicep. "Is this going to hurt a lot?"

"Bad question," Hermione said, her voice muffled in the quilt.

Replying, Ron said, "Bill's told me about what you have to do, 'Mione. I'm sorry."

"You're not going to mention that I'm holding on to Major Snape?" she asked, lifting her head a fraction.

Before he could answer, Bill preempted him with a whispered _fidelitas vestigium._

Her hands spasmed out, grasping at Severus' shirt, her nails slashing at the fabric and making tiny holes. Bucking backwards as the pain gripped her body, Hermione pulled away from Snape, but he did not let her go, forcefully pressing her body to his chest, he let her ride the wave of her pain in the safety of his arms.

Over. Breathe deep. Over.

Hermione found Ron's star, on her knobby wrist bone, and activated it, watching him wink out of existence only to rebound on Snape's bubble charm around Hermione and fall to the floor.

Ginny came in next with Tonks, who knelt by the chair and held Ginny's hand as she was marked high on her neck, hidden by her flame colored hair. Severus fought to keep Hermione on the bed, as she feebly thrashed and ripped her body away from the pain.

Tonks took the next mark on the ball of her shoulder. Hermione didn't scream this time, only whimpered as her back arced and her legs kicked, seemingly out of her control. Her veins were on fire and her arm ached miserably.

Luna chose her ankle to have the phoenix branded and Hermione wrenched sideways from the flagellation and pulled she and Severus off the bed and onto the floor. The mattress was levitated by Luna as Bill shrunk the frame to store under the armchair. Hermione was rested on the mattress, now only a few inches up from the floor.

One by one they continued, after Luna came Neville, who threw up with the pain, and then Charlie, Fleur and Percy. It was midnight by the time Arthur came in, and Hermione was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat but shivering as though she was freezing to death. He upped the temperature in the room and tucked her backwards into Snape and added blankets.

She jolted again after Arthur was marked, the covers mangled and trapping. Severus gently smoothed them out, letting her rest against his chest until the next wave of pain caused her to scream and buck.

Molly, Hannah, Lee. _Fidelitas vestigium, fidelitas vestigium, fidelitas vestigium. _Her drenched clothes were changed, the shirt she had taken from Severus and cherished was put on her, and a pair of flannel pants.

Bill took an invigoration draught. Padma, Katie, Andromeda, Percy, Dean. Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain. Padma, Ernie, Fred, George, Parvati. Severus took her fingers in his own hand and pressed each new star as it appeared, forever linking them to her. Narcissa went last, her son holding her hand as she was marked delicately on her ankle. Ginny returned to mark her brother's bicep, steadily chanting the words, pushing Hermione further towards the edge of unconsciousness.

As Severus pressed Hermione's fingers to the twenty-fourth star, he felt her slip quietly into oblivion.

"She's unconscious," Severus told Ginny as she helped her brother to his feet. "Can you help me get her into her room?"

Ginny nodded. "Are you all right to fix up Mum and Dad's bed, Bill?"

He said that he was and Ginny and Snape began to make the journey across the sitting room, through the kitchen and into Hermione's room where he gently laid her on top of the covers. Her face nearly blended into the pillow case and her breathing was shallow and labored.

"I'm going to change clothes," said Severus quietly, gesturing to his sweat soaked shirt and trousers. "Stay with her."

She did, pulling back the covers and sliding her best friend's legs under them before crawling beside her.

Hermione stirred a moment later.

"Stay still, 'Mione," Ginny soothed. "It's all over. No more marks."

Her eyes, which were once wide with fear, relaxed and eventually slid shut.


	24. Chapter 24

A gentle breeze touched Hermione's face as she danced between waking and sleeping. As she opened her eyes, she saw a sleek muggle desk fan on top of her desk oscillating side to side. "Hmm," she mumbled, fumbling for the glass of water she knew to be there.

"I brought it in last night," Ginny said, looking over from the wall side of the bed where she was reading a book with a thin pair of wire rimmed glasses on her nose. Tucking her mark into the middle of the leather bound book, she scooted down to laying again and opened her arms for Hermione to come close.

Hermione nodded, burrowing her head into Ginny's shoulder, warmly clothed in combed white flannel. "Thanks. I think I was hot. Maybe I was cold, though."

Ginny pressed the back of her hand to Hermione's cheek, feeling for fever. "How do you feel today?"

"I feel like I became the painted lady without my permission," she replied crankily, pulling the cuff of Severus' shirt up to show Ginny the stars. "But other than that, I'm fine. A little sleepy, but fine."

"You'll be able to go and do your sighting tonight? In London?" Ginny asked, chewing her lip. "Can I touch the stars?"

"Definitely. I'll take any chance I can get to get our of here," Hermione shrugged. "I don't know what will happen, but go ahead."

Using only the tip of her index finger, Ginny lightly pressed one. A tense moment passed, but nothing happened. "Let me have your fingers."

"I know that will work," replied Hermione. "That's what Severus was doing last night to help me."

Without prelude, Ginny grabbed Hermione's thumb and pressed it to the most convenient mark, almost too hard, leaving a faint half moon on her skin. Six flailing arms and six flailing legs became tangled almost instantly on Hermione's bed. When they righted themselves, Luna's serene face looked up at them from behind her thick, pale hair, falling in her face.

"If you wanted to be in bed with me, you would only need ask," she said, not the least bit perturbed, using her wand to scratch her back. "But that was an interesting way to come downstairs."

"Yeah," Ginny said sheepishly. "I just wanted to see what would happen."

Luna blinked her owlishly round eyes twice. "I'm going to make some coffee, then, because its morning. And, I'm downstairs."

Gracefully, she unfolded her legs and got off the bed. They noticed that her pajamas were pink, with a pattern of fried bacon and eggs as she lithely danced out of the room.

"That worked well," Hermione snorted as Luna shut the door. Burying her head in her pillow she said, butting her head into Ginny's arm, "Come on, I have to assure Severus that I'm well."

The clock on the stove read 8:45 in the morning in blinking blue lights as Ginny and Hermione crept up the stairs to the bedroom where Snape slept, their slippers making a light slapping noise over the hard wood floors. The door opened with a small creak and Hermione and Ginny giggled softly- this was like waking up a parent on Christmas, somehow. Draco was out of the room, with Luna in the kitchen, and Charlie was on his back with his mouth hanging open, his arm over the side of the bed, his vivid phoenix mark just barely visible.

Severus was on his side, holding his pillow between his hands, supine. The lines on his face were relaxed and he looked inexplicably younger, with less care. They stared at him with a sort of reverence for several long, silent moments.

"He looks kind of..." Ginny whispered, "dishy?"

He snorted suddenly and his dark lashes opened. "Really, Captain Weasley?"

"Fuck," swore Ginny, a smile on her face. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I've been awake for some time," he said, stretching his arms above his head, several joints popped. "You are well this morning, Hermione?"

"I am," she confirmed. "Ginny has decided that we need to go shopping this morning before we leave this afternoon for London."

With a girlish bounce of her head, Ginny confirmed. "I made you dinner reservations, too."

"Lovely," Severus replied. "I suppose you've a whole vicarious experience for us."

Ginny shrunk back, her shoulders rolling forward in genuine hurt. "Don't be a shit, Snape," she spat, her pretty and once festive mouth curled into a sneer.

Severus' eyes flashed dark as he sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side, "I wouldn't suggest speaking to your commanding officer that way."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she bit, her eyes narrowed into thin slits and her voice as a snarl. "But I'm not talking to my commanding officer. I'm bitching out my best friend's boyfriend."

"_Children_," Hermione interjected, forcibly stepping between them, their faces only a foot apart. "Severus, apologize. Ginny, accept."

Not making eye contact with Hermione, he replied. "It is not my fault that Miss Weasley has thin skin."

"And it isn't my fault, Severus, if I give you the silent treatment all evening, then," Hermione shot back. "We're leaving in ten and will be back before the London portkey activates at three. If you want to play nice, we're going to eat when we get to London. If you don't want to- eat a fucking _sandwich._"

Grabbing her red-faced friend by the arm, she drug her back down the stairs and all the while, Ginny tried to stifle her chuckles. "That was _awesome_, 'Mione."

She rounded on Ginny, poking her chest once. "You weren't much better. But I'll forgive you every time over someone else."

"Your loyalty is touching, Hufflepuff," Ginny replied, laughing as they went back into Hermione's room. "Get dressed and have a cup of coffee. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Still angry at Ginny, but only barely, she selected her clothes for the day- a pair of faded denims and a shirt of Severus' in a dark shade of ochre yellow. He hated it, so she took it. His shirts felt so perfect on- not like when she had borrowed a sweater from Ron, he was so tall she always felt like a tiny child. Severus was only of moderate height, and with spare shoulders and she was on the taller side with a decent sized bosom, so his shirt always felt like they had fit her forever. She felt at home, like coming back to where she belonged; she fit so well.

Glancing in the mirror that she fitted beside her desk, she scowled again at her hair. Insipidly blonde. It was time to bring out the big guns.

"Hey, Parvati," Hermione said as she opened the door to her comrade's second floor bedroom. "Can you give me a hand with something?"

The dark-haired girl appeared at the door, dressed to the nines already at nine in the morning with her lashes curled prettily. "What's going on, Hermione?"

"You see this?" Hermione asked, pointing to her short-cropped blonde hair. "I want my hair back."

"This looks better on you," Parvati replied, cocking her head critically, then shrugging. "but its your hair."

Hermione smiled, not at all offended. "I like my hair. What do you need to do?"

"There's a potion I need to brew for the length, but I can change the color right now, if you want," she replied, putting out her fingers to run through Hermione's textured mop.

Shaking her head, Hermione declined. "I'll just do it all at once. You should talk to Draco, too. See if he wants to change his back."

"Do you think Professor Snape will be all right with me using his lab?" asked Parvati, chewing on her ruby-toned lower lip.

"No," Hermione said immediately. "And if he isn't, I'll make sure to take care of it."

Parvati snickered. "Can I use his stores?"

"Sure, just make a note of what you used," replied Hermione. "And, thanks."

Ginny touched Hermione's shoulder as she walked down from the third floor, dressed in an ensemble stunning in its simplicity: white tee shirt, denims, ankle boots and a cardigan. "Are you done being mad at me?"

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, but I'm still mad at Severus."

"So, you and the Professor..." Parvati led in, drumming her long fingers against the door frame.

"Are none of your buisness, Patil," Ginny chimed in brightly. "Ready to go?"

After writing their location on their message boards beside the door, Hermione and Ginny got into the Volvo and made their way to the very crowded shopping mall. "Wow," Ginny said as they walked in, "Muggles are bloody brilliant."

"Remember, we only have a little while to find something, so you'd best choose wisely," Hermione warned, inching back towards the wall and letting the eager American Muggles rush by her.

"Nordstrom, then," Ginny declared, her eyes darting around appraising. "You know who I bet would get a kick out of this? Narcissa Malfoy."

"Out of the mall?" Hermione asked, looking around at the space packed with muggles.

Ginny nodded. "Give me your phone," she requested.

"Fine," Hermione replied, handing over the compact silver mobile. "But I'm going to go get a smoothie while you pitch this one."

After ordering and receiving a peach strawberry smoothie from the Smoothie King franchise, Hermione headed back over to where Ginny was standing against the wall.

"She wants you to bring her over."

"What? How?" Hermione asked, offering Ginny a slurp of smoothie.

Ginny sucked at the straw happily. "Oh woman with the magic teleporting tattoos, how would we do that?"

"Don't you think its misusing my power a touch?" she replied, even though Narcissa's star had begun to glow a faint orangeish hue and become warm to the touch.

Scoffing, Ginny replied, "We need to get to a loo so that we can port her in."

"This isn't going to become a habit, Weasley," Hermione insisted as she was bodily drug by her upper arm into the department store. "And she's known Snape since _forever. _Do you really think that she's going to be excited about me dating him? I'm..."

"Hot? Gorgeous? Luscious? Badass? I doubt she's going to be opposed to the leader of the Order of the Phoenix dating her surrogate little brother, or you as a person. You're pretty effing awesome, 'Mione," replied Ginny in a near huff, her pace not slowing as she whizzed her friend past the cosmetics counter and into the nearest lavatory. It was a nicely apportioned room, with a large lounge with several soft, beige sofas done up in a nubby fabric, and flattering ambient lighting. "Well, go ahead."

Hermione huffed a little and gave Ginny the middle finger, which she then directed downwards and planted on Narcissa's glowing star. The air tensed and then cracked, depositing the blonde on the carpet of the ladies' lounge.

She stood up, quite gracefully, and dusted off her long gray skirt, arching her perfectly groomed blonde brows upward. "We simply must put her in red, don't you think so, Ginny, dear?"

So it was: crimson, burgundy, cardinal, carmine, chestnut, fire engine red, maroon, persian red, ruby, terra cotta, vermillion, sangria, scarlet, cerise, rust, brick, falu red, cranberry, Venetian red, persimmon, candy apple: every shade was tried and tweaked, perfected and examined. Hermione was zipped, strapped, corseted and buttoned into every dress in the store, she thought, before Narcissa and Ginny declared one to be perfect.

She stood in front of a three-way mirror with her best girlfriend and her strangely fashionable death eater matriarch in residence beaming at her. Dressed in a simple red hip accentuating sheath dress, they pronounced it perfect.

"I need food," Narcissa said, waving away the sales girl that had inherently known that Mrs. Malfoy was a woman to be catered to. "Shall we lunch?"

Ginny giggled. "I don't think I've ever 'lunched' before."

"I did, a few times," Hermione idly commented. "I've a rich aunt in Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire, that used to swoop down and take Mum and me to The Wolseley in London to 'lunch'. It was all very exciting, but Mum always broke out a bit when her sister would come in."

"Well, Ginevra, this shall be your first experience," Narcissa smiled, only half embarrassed at her high nosed gaff. "We can be really bad, don't you think?"

"No salads?" Ginny giggled, holding up one of Hermione's discarded dresses to her body and studying it in the mirror.

Hermione called out from behind the dressing room door. "And chocolate cake for dessert. Not sharing a piece- three separate pieces."

"You won't fit into your dress," Ginny replied.

"That's why Fred and George invented their shrinking bandages," Hermione smirked, carrying her dress out on a hanger.

"I thought they were for emergency tourniquets?" Narcissa frowned, standing and pulling her chinchilla shawl collar jacket on.

"Secondary use," Ginny explained. "I showed them spanx and they were inspired."

"Just for that, we'll have champagne with lunch and we'll toast to spanx and shrinking bandages," Narcissa replied, putting her hand over her heart and rolling her head back.

Laughing, Hermione paid for her dress and discreetly shrunk it to stow in her purse. They walked to the opposite side of the shopping center, to where Ginny had seen a restaurant. Without any type of charming charm, Narcissa walked right up to the host and asked for a seat in her Kathleen Turner voice, and although there were others waiting, he escorted them immediately to a secluded, intimate booth near the back of the restaurant.

"Thank you," Narcissa breathed, her voice quiet enough that the gobsmacked host had to lean in to hear. "We appreciate it."

Hermione just shook her head at the antics of the older woman.

"Can I _learn _how to do that?" Ginny snickered.

"No," Hermione interjected. "I think she must have been born that way."

Narcissa smiled on indulgently as she delicately sipped her water.

"Think of poor Snape as a first year- I bet you were just the same, even then, weren't you?" Ginny goaded.

"I believe that Severus has always preferred brunettes," she replied, giving Hermione a secret smile.

"You're sweet, Narcissa," Hermione laughed, taking a slice of rich, dark bread and buttering it heavily.

Ginny sighed irreverently. "We all know that red heads are the best of the bunch."

"Do blondes really have more fun?" Hermione joked.

"Quite a bit less, in fact," she frowned. "We're always worried about root touch ups."

They ate leisurely and comfortably, munching on an appetizer of lobster dip and stuffed mushrooms, and their various main courses: Chicken Kiev for Hermione, Wasabi Salmon for Ginny and Country Fried Chicken for Narcissa. Two large slices of a rich chocolate mousse cake and a bit of cherry cheesecake finished off the meal, two bottles into the bubbly.

After a sober-up spell, Hermione drove them home, her dress enlarged and airing out in the back seat with Ginny. The clock read two forty in the afternoon when they entered the house and Parvati was waiting for Hermione at the door.

"You're going to be late," she tisked, handing her commander the potion she had brewed.

Downing the light purple liquid quickly, a ridiculous tingling shook down each strand of hair, lengthening and strengthening as it went. Further and further it grew, until it curled all the way down her ribs and rested at the small of her back. "That's a little much," Hermione commented, pointing to the spot on her back she liked it.

Parvati snipped a few times with her wand and muttered a few spells trying to get the color just right. "There. Do you want me to do something to it?"

Hermione frowned.

"Right, then," Parvati said, backing away a bit. "Have a good night, then."

She quickly made her way through the kitchen and to her bedroom where she frantically removed her clothes, scattering them over the very little floor space and hopped around on one foot as she tried to pull her tights on.

Severus didn't knock, but instead opened her door with a kind of comfortable familiarity. "The portkey is set for five minutes," he said, sheepishly looking on at her.

Standing in the middle of the room with her tights pulled up past her waist and only her bra, Hermione looked the sight, but she still managed to seethe at Snape. "And have you decided you're going to play nice?"

"I encountered Miss Weasley as she was coming inside and I made my apologies," he retorted, almost mockingly.

She stepped into her dress and pulled it up to her shoulders, threading her long white arms through the sleeves. "Zip me, then."

He did, allowing the backs of his fingers to caress up the line of her spine and rest at the base of her neck and touch the fine curls there. "Your hair is back," he murmured, burying his nose in it.

"Parvati did it," she replied, letting him kiss up the side of her neck breathlessly. "I really must put on my shoes."

Reluctantly, he stopped and whispered with that voice of his into her ear. "You think we can sneak off in London to someplace I can take advantage of you?"

Hermione laughed, twisting away and pulling on her ankle boots. "What are you, a teenager?"

"I had quite a poor childhood, I'll have you know-" he started, holding up her coat for her to put her arms through.

"Thanks," Hermione replied. "We all make wonky choices. But, yes, I think I might be amenable to being taken advantage of. Will you give me a lolly?"

"Don't be crass, Hermione," retorted Severus, handing her the small Grand Canyon key chain in his hand. It began to glow with warning.

She sputtered. "When do you ever call me that?"

"Hermione?" Snape questioned. "When it fits best. I could hardly get my point across by saying 'don't be crass, sweet muffin', don't you agree?"

She snorted, "Next, you'll be calling me pickle or something so silly."

"I don't think-" Severus began, but he was cut off as the vortex that is portkey travel began swirling, grabbing them by their stomachs, smashing them into each other and whirling them away. 


	25. Chapter 25

The wind whipped and wrapped around them like icy winter arms, making it hard to breathe. Getting their bearings, Hermione and Severus looked around, trying to discern where they were. A light dusting of snow coated the eastern sides of the trees that lined the path near them. Currently, though, they were both on their knees in a frozen flower bed, the hard mulch making patterns on Hermione's knees through her tights. Severus got up first, shooting bursts of air at their legs and then applying warming charms.

"Are we in St. James' Park?" Severus asked quietly when he was done. "Or Hyde?"

"Definitely St. James', see, there's the path to Buckingham," she replied, giving him a coy smile. "We'd best get our sighting done so that we can get on with the shagging, right?"

"Diagon Alley it is, then," He said, taking her arm comfortably in his. Snape seemed comfortable with the tube, Hermione thought, and they made their way quietly from St. James' north to Charing Cross Road, where the entrance of Diagon Alley awaited them. On one side, a large Virgin Records shop loomed high and on the other, an ubiquitous Barnes and Noble. Smack in the center, four stories smaller than the great chrome and glass buildings on either side of it, sat the Leaky Cauldron, with four chimneys puffing up different colored smoke.

"Armed?" Hermione whispered as Snape held open the door for her, the old bells above the door chiming merrily. He nodded, and they presented their fronts to the bar, so usually crowded.

Today, though, the long oak bar was nearly empty, with only one tiny wizard at the far end drinking a gillywater on the polished surface. Old toothless Tom was quietly toweling out cups at the other end of the bar, muttering to himself. He looked up as Hermione and Snape made their way to the counter and his mouth gaped open.

"Saints alive," he whispered, his pale blue eyes growing wide. "Get in here."

He hobbled faster than Hermione had ever seen before and ushered them into his back room, a tiny, windowless office with bright orange carpet on the ground. There wasn't any dust and it seemed that Tom was a competently organized buisnessman- there were little stacks of files sitting upright with neat labels.

"Tom," Hermione began after the door had closed behind them. "What's going on?"

He was shuffling through drawers filled with stacks of letters and papers in his scratched and bleached desk and did not answer until he came back up for air with a stack of envelopes neatly tied together with twine. "I'm to get these to you if I see you," he said, thrusting the letters towards Hermione. "Rumor around the continent is that you're still fighting the fight, Miss Granger."

Hermione kept her lips in a thin line, not answering.

"Take these," Tom pleaded, shaking the letters at her. "I'll bet every Potter sympathizing establishment on the Alley has these letters too. There are some people desperate for help or to help."

Snape stepped forward, drawing his wand and quietly mumbling several detection spells over the stack. He handed them to Hermione, who immediately severed the twine and ripped into them.

"Who are they from?" Severus whispered, his lips only millimeters from her ear.

Hermione scoffed, even as her dark eyes were scanning down the page. "Spanish Magical Consul. Fucktard. Could you leave us, Tom?"

Tom did as he was asked, and Severus threw up wards on the door and walls. "What does he want?"

"Help, it seems," replied Hermione. "Not a whole day after we left, Jimenez had another meeting, with the Death Eaters this time. I can't believe we were in the same city with Death Eaters and we didn't even know it."

Severus pressed. "What happened?"

"Jimenez is dead," Hermione replied flatly. "With him dead, want to join our side. I'm going to have to send a legate to Granada to meet with the interim leader, Amaranta Morales. Bugger all."

"Shall we have a working dinner?" Severus almost-joked, taking the first letter and scanning it.

Hermione nodded. "We'll take a break for rogering me silly later on in the evening, right?"

He bit the top curve of her ear. "Count on it."

Tucking the other letters into her bag, all from the Spanish Magical Government, they emerged from the small office and nodded to Tom, who caught their eye and grimaced and mouthed a blessing on them as they left.

Tap, tap, tap. The bricks flipped backwards on themselves familiarly and revealed the once colorful, vibrant main street of Wizarding Britain. The cobbles, once dusted with fresh, white snow, were grey and grimy, covered in a thin, watery layer of mud and sand. Quality Quidditch Supplies was gone, in its place only large wood sheets, nailed over the windows. A heavy wind had battered the hanging sign until it hung only at one point. Further on, at Eeylops, only two mangy, old looking owls opened their tawny eyes at the couple from inside the store. Closed, it said on the door, for the New Year's Holiday.

Florian Fortesque's had been recently sacked, it seemed, because underneath the broken glass, the building was still incongruously bright, its purples, greens and pinks still visible and cheery behind the graffiti. The snow crunched as Hermione stepped and when she pulled her boot away, she saw that she had stepped on, and broken, one of Florian's ice cream bowls, peach colored and emblazoned with their slogan in the center, "If you see this, its time for more!".

A little cry exited her throat as she bent to pick up the three pieces of the bowl. Taking them from her, lest she slice her finger on the porcelain, Snape quickly threw a _reparo _charm at the shards, piecing it back together firmly and stowing it in Hermione's beaded bag.

"Thank you," she whispered, as they continued down the alley.

It seemed as though life had ground to a sudden, yet expected halt here in the alley. The only place, it seemed, that was doing a brisk business, was Grigott's, where Hermione and Snape were headed. Up the wide, marble steps and past the crimson and gold liveried goblin and into the never changing world of money. Money, they saw, was still up and running. The cool shining key Hermione retrieved from her bag was held carefully by a long fingered goblin who immediately set aside the large pile of sapphires he was examining through a loupe.

"Hermione Granger," he whispered, running his fingertips lovingly over the ridges in the key, "follow me."

Hermione and Severus followed, past the carts on the trachs and into a small, but luxuriously appointed office. Behind a desk, made entirely of a single piece of glimmering dark stone, sat a small, fat goblin with a ledger spread open in front of him.

"Hermione Granger," he addressed her. "I am Colmey. Please, have a seat."

When Hermione and Snape were comfortably seated and offered coffee and tea, which neither of them accepted, he dove into the meat of the conversation.

'I see that after Mr. Harry Potter's demise, joint account 740 has become a grade one account. With a grade one account, only an authorized goblin can open it. I am sure you will be pleased with the increased security measures on your account."

Calmly, as though she were asking for sugar in her tea, Hermione asked, "Where do you stand, Colmey, and Gringott's, in this war?"

"Gringott's takes no sides," he hissed. "No side but their own."

"Do I have your word, then, as a trustworthy goblin, that Voldemort has not and will not take over this establishment?" Hermione demanded.

Bowing his grey, wrinkled head low, Colmey acknowledged the ancient platitudes Hermione invoked. "You have my word, sister of men."

Snape sat stony and silent in the chair next to Hermione, his back eyes taking in every detail of the conversation between his lover and the small goblin.

"There's more," continued Hermione. "State your business. You wouldn't call us back here to just discuss my account's status upgrade."

"We have discovered an item from a vault that the last living link has been severed. This item," said Colmey directly, getting up to stroke his long fingers down a cabinet door, "this item, I believe, will mean a great deal to your cause."

"Why are you showing us, then?" Severus asked quietly, distrustfully.

"Gringott's has not and will not choose a side. Their managing director has," he responded, directly to Hermione, pointing at the little plaque on his desk: _Colmey Sanhee, Managing Director._

"Master Snape is my deputy," Hermione retorted. "You may address him freely."

From out of the cabinet Colmey withdrew a thin, leather bound book, closed with a strap, which he handed directly to Hermione. Sliding her fingers under the strap, she tried to pull it from its tab to open the book. Again, she tried. And tried.

"What is this?" she asked, handing the book to Severus.

"I believe this to be the diary of Rowena Ravenclaw," Colmey pronounced. "None have been able to open it thus far. I suspect only a true Ravenclaw would be able to open it."

"We've a few of those in spades," Hermione muttered.

"Rumor has come to my ears that you and yours are searching for the lost diadem."

"Rumors speak many things," Severus replied, "but _say _nothing."

Colmey ignored Snape. "Mayhaps you will suss out the location of the diadem from this book."

"Many thanks and blessings on your scales," Hermione said, taking the journal back from Snape and holding it close to her chest, her breath heaving.

"I will take you to your vault myself," Colmey replied. "Come."

The ride down was uneventful, but harrowing, as usual, but what Hermione and Snape found in the vault was the most surprising. Colmey placed both of his hands on the flat surface of the door and after the various clinks, clicks and clunks had subsided, the door melted away and they were let inside.

"Holy _fuck_," Hermione gasped as they stepped into the olympic swimming pool sized room, filled top to bottom with glittering towers of gold galleons, silver sickles and little bronze knuts.

"For once, Miss Granger," Severus said, his face nearly unaffected, "I must concur with your vulgarities.

"Colmey!" Hermione cried. "I had no idea the vault was this full! How much is in here?"

Calmly, Colmey withdrew a parchment with numbers that Hermione did not understand. "I see your confusion. The twelve million galleon sale of Mrs. Narcissa and Master Lucius Malfoy's Piedmont villa has just been cleared."

"Their _what_?" Hermione gasped.

"I've been there," Severus chimed in, rather uncharacteristically. "Narcissa loved that place. Its a shame they've sold it."

"In Italy?" continued Hermione.

Colmey said, "I took care of the sale myself. Lovely place, I think you agree Master Snape. Five bedrooms, overlooking the sea. Lovely."

"I think the world's gone crackers," she replied. "Well, I suppose we're set for the moment. I could take it all out and buy myself one hell of a skating rink diamond, though."

Severus frowned. "Do you like diamonds, sweet?"

"I like sparkly things, Severus," Hermione assured, "but I'm not looking for one of those diamonds any time soon. I buy my own."

He said nothing, but they got back into the carts for their trip to the surface. The wind whipped at their faces as they marched back into the street, mostly deserted. The hour was tolling in the distance: nine o'clock.

"We're going to be late," Hermione told Severus. "But we need to be seen somewhere, I think, where we're sure it will get back to Voldemort."

"Apothocary," Severus said, steering Hermione gently by her elbow into the first shop on their right. "You're very interested in Brown Recluse carapace today, I think."

They bought half an ounce of the carapace, the apothocary jittery and jumpy the whole time.

"Thank you for your business, Master Snape," the little white-haired man said as they turned to leave. "Will we be seeing you more often now?"

Snape glared. "I tend to gather my own ingredients, Silbernius. You know that."

Silbernius nodded as they left, his left eye twitching erratically.

Onto the tube they went again, this time on the Bakerloo line north to Paddington, where, following Ginny's hastily scribbled directions, they found the restaurant they were looking for. Completely French, it was immediately apparent that if they could not speak the mother tongue, they would be escorted with a sneer. Thankfully they had both spent enough time in France to get by, but to be bombarded with such was strange and foreign in their homeland. In a heavily accented deep voice, the host gave them a distrustful look, although their command of French was acceptable. Regardless, after showing adequate respect to french cuisine, they were escorted to the back of the quite crowded restaurant and seated in a small booth with a bouquet of amaryllis in a vase with several candles. The menu was a la francais, and heavily wordy.

Sighing and resting her head on the back of the upholstered bench, Hermione sighed, simply glad to be away from the non-stop hustle and bustle of the fake colonial.

"What a fortnight," Severus commented, idly scanning the menu.

A fortnight? What happened two weeks ago? _Christmas. _Merely five days ago they had been on the run. It had been less than a fortnight since Harry died. Less than a month. They had destroyed another horcrux. They had rescued Katie and Ron.

A fortnight.

Hermione sat flabbergasted, her fingers paused in the air over her menu. "Holy _fuck_."

"A bit surreal, isn't it?" Severus replied, not looking up from his menu. "Two weeks ago I was still in my comfortable apartment in France, looking over my notes."

Sitting up ramrod straight, Hermione was floored. "You've got to be kidding me. It seems like _years."_

"I have lived a thousand years," whispered Severus, looking up at last, an indecipherable expression on his face.

Hermione thought. "What is today? Saturday... two weeks ago, I was in Liverpool with Tonks and Ron. We were staking out one of the potential death eater hide outs."

"I was, like I usually am on Saturday nights," Severus replied, "in front of my fire with take out. Indian, last week. Saag paneer and a saffron lassi."

"From Bassanti? That place we got dinner a lot?" asked Hermione, deciding what she wanted to eat and closing her menu.

He nodded. "I thought of you, when I looked over the menu and saw _poulet tikka. _I was torn between your rose water lassi and my saffron."

"Oh god," replied Hermione. "What I wouldn't do for a rose water lassi."

Severus smiled a rare smile for her. "Those months were...comfortable."

"They were," she answered.

The waitress appeared, and in a bored, accented voice, she asked, "Oo'd oo like zu ohrdair?"

"La dame serait comme un verre de vin maison rouge," Severus calmly transitioned into French, "et je voudrais avoir une eau de vie. Deux verres d'eau et, s'il vous plaît"

Hermione's French was decent, definitely much better than Draco's, but Severus' was exquisite. It was casual and elegant, falling off his lips like drops of water. He had a comfortable way of speaking, and totally _french _manner, his lips barely moving, each beautiful sound blending to the next glorious beat.

"Oui. Avez-vous décidé ce que vous aimeriez pour le dîner?" the waitress replied, her voice just that much more interested.

"Hermione?" Severus asked, gesturing to her.

She stumbled for a moment, "Pouis-je...no, pourrais-je avoir les moules cuites à la vapeur... dans le vermouth?"

"Oui. Et pour vous, monsieur?" she asked, turning her attention back on the handsome dark-eyed man.

He handed over his menu. "Coq au vin, s'il vous plaît."

As she left, Hermione said, "I'd forgotten how good your French was, Severus."

Inclining his head in thanks, he responded, "I do not think that I told you, but my Mother's Mother was french. Aspeth Rosier."

"I can imagine that you spent happy summers frolicking in Provence. Tall grass, elegant old lady with black and silver hair," Hermione replied.

"_She _would have been a Ravenclaw," Severus mused his eyes up and to the corner of the room. "She would have loved reading the diary."

Before their entrees had arrived, Severus and Hermione were deep in discussion- first about Ravenclaw's diary, then about who their choice would be to read and decipher the book, followed by where the blasted diadem could be.

By the time dessert arrived, they were deep into a tactical division of the Order, Hermione scribbling on one of the cloth napkins at the table with an ink pen. Severus, Luna, Ron and Draco would be sent to Albania to search for the diadem while Hermione, George, Bill and Fleur would scour the Riddle House. Fred, Charlie, Neville and Katie were headed to the South London Orphanage where Riddle grew up.

"And the other matter of the evening," Hermione said, digging her fork into her gâteau, the chocolate cake passing her lips with a heavenly sigh. "What should we do about Spain?"

"Do you ever stop?" Severus asked her, not ungently, as he carefully, precisely cut with the side of his fork into his dessert, clafoutis aux Cerises.

Shaking her head from side to side and reveling in the feeling of her hair against her cheeks again she said, "Not really. Ever. We'll have to send someone. Using Spain as a base instead of the United States would be nice, I think. Better commute."

Snorting a bit, Severus replied, "I hardly think that going over a thousand kilometers can ever qualify as a commute."

Hermione shrugged, a good natured smile on her face. "We need to go to that little town in Portugal again, after this is over. Presuming we're alive."

"It was quite nice," returned Severus, putting down his fork and circling his fingers around Hermione's wrist on the white table cloth. "I don't really remember it, though. All I could think about is that you and I were going to be without supervision for an undisclosed amount of time very soon."

"Minx," Hermione said, scratching lightly at the tender underside of his wrist seductively.

"Shall we depart, then?"

"We shall."


	26. Chapter 26

Had an insanely bad week. A friend of mine died on Wednesday and I've been really out of sorts since then.

On another note, what would you guys think about a prequel, about S and H's time in Paris months before?

"I'm so full I think I'm going to die," Hermione said as her companion helped her with her coat. "I ate with Ginny and Narcissa earlier. I was worried you'd be a prat and I was hungry."

"I ate a bowl of soup," replied Severus, buttoning his overcoat. "I wasn't sure you'd forgive me."

Smirking slightly, she let him open the door onto the street for her. "It was pretty awful, what you said."

He said nothing, but gently threaded her gloved hand through the crook of his elbow. The wind had died down, but it was still bitterly cold as they walked slowly through the nearly deserted streets of Paddington. "Would you like a drink?" he asked finally as they passed the Victoria Pub.

"I'm all right, if you are. It's only five at home," said Hermione, looking into the window at the warm, happy faces. She laughed. "I'd hate to get a reputation."

"You? A reputation?" he mocked, kissing her temple. "I'm terribly pleased that you don't- for drinking or otherwise. But you are quite skilled- drinking _and _otherwise."

Disengaging from his arm she darted her hand down, sliding the back of it along the buttons at the front of his coat and lower, to feel him straining at his trousers. "I think all the men I've been with would be afraid of what I'd do to them if they kissed and told."

Leaning down to whisper in her ear, his warm breath curling around the shell of it, he asked, "Shall I take you to Spinner's End? I'm not afraid of you."

On the street, in one of the biggest cities in the world, on the most public night of the week, Hermione began kissing her ex-professor for all she was worth. He responded, positioning his hands on either side of her jaw, tipping her head back for better access to her delightful mouth. Hermione had initiated the kiss, but Severus quickly took ownership, moving down her lips to kiss a line down her chin, the underside of her jaw and down her throat until he met the bones at the base of her neck, which he nipped and sucked enthusiastically.

Breaking away for air, she shook her head vigorously and answered, "No. I want you here."

Looking around, his eyes darkening appreciatively, he nodded and murmured, "As you command."

Was he really going to fuck her in the alley? It sure looked like it.

Grabbing Hermione by her upper arm and dragging her further down the alley between the Solicitor's office and the Victoria Pub, Hermione began to really believe that he was going to have her right then and there. She had nothing but bravado, but a trill of excitement and fear rent up her spine and she shivered. Severus let go of her and she felt the absence of his warmth immediately.

Notice-Me-Not. Muggle-Repelling. Cushioning. Warming.

Oh fuck, he was going to have her in the alley.

"Now," he commented, rather predatorily. "Where were we?"

Before she could come up with a smart remark, his mouth had crushed against hers, moving expertly and coaxing them to a pliancy. His tongue darted out and moistened Hermione's lips as his gloved hands came up to twine in her hair, pulling and twisting at the base of her neck.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," he said, tugging on her hair gently before releasing it only to close his fingers around hanks of it again.

Hermione giggled. "You've done _this _before."

"No," he purred, biting the top rim of her ear. "I've had dreams of your hair all around you for years."

Gasping as he kissed up the warm, white column of her throat, she replied, "Tell me."

Severus groaned, pushing her up against the brick wall, little crumbles of rock coming off underneath Hermione's fingers. "When we were in Paris and I knew you were asleep in the room next to me."

"Did you-" her words were cut off with a low moan as Severus pushed his hands up and under her carefully chosen red dress.

Using his wand, he ran it along the cleft of her sex, the feeling of magic penetrating her core. A gush of cold air flowed between her legs as Severus drew his wand away. "I trust you can duplicate another pair."

"I can," she whispered, letting his fingers replace his wand. They were cold and slick, not only from her arousal, but from the deliciously smooth leather of his gloves.

He touched, pinched and caressed up and down her folds, "Did I what?" he asked.

"Did y-you..." she mumbled, the leather rubbing artfully against her ever tightening bundle of nerves.

Abruptly, Severus stropped with his stroking, leaving her poised and ready to fall. "Did I..." he prodded.

"Did you...touch yourself? When I was asleep next door?" whimpered Hermione, so past propriety that she made eye contact with him just to watch him further arouse himself.

"Yes," he replied. "It was...necessary."

"Touch me again, Severus, please," Hermione begged. "Please."

He began moving his fingers again. "I couldn't work in the same room with you every day without some kind of... release."

Bucking against his gloved hand, she whispered. "I want to watch you. One day, I want you to make yourself come while I watch."

As he worked her harder, letting her come closer and closer, Severus bit his lip. "I shall accommodate."

"Please," she begged. "I want to- I want to-"

He prompted her again.

Letting go a frustrated cry, she yelled, "I want to come!"

Circling her clit steadily, listening to her breathing become more labored, Severus twisted her around so that her back was against his chest, his other hand coming up to stroke her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. Her breathing sped up, then she held her breath, sped up, stopped, sped up and stopped until finally, shaking and crying out, she spilled against Severus' glove.

"Please, please," she whispered, close to breaking down. "I want you."

His fingers pressed into her thighs and he held her against him, letting her come down from her orgasm. When her shaking had subsided, he removed one hand, and brought it to his trouser fly, which he dropped, letting the pressure ease on his erection. Taking it in hand, he began to languorously stroke as Hermione began to realize that he was doing.

"Let me," Hermione choked, letting the tips of her fingers trail on his shaft. She fell to her knees, inching him back up against the wall and put her lips around his head. His hand kept a steady tempo, and Hermione slid her mouth up and down in time. After a few moments, she gently removed his hand, bringing it to the back of her head to grasp her hair.

Breathing deeply and stilling his hips with her palms, Hermione began to inch forward on his cock and slowly, slowly open her throat around him. When he was firmly lodged, and was so still Hermione almost laughed, she slid her tongue past her lips and licked a firm line between his balls. Severus' hand tightened in her hair, but he remained intensely still. When she had relaxed in this position, Hermione began to move up and down him, noisily and greedily sucking and taking him deep into her throat. Letting him go with a satisfying popping noise, she rocked back on her heels and looked up at her lover, her lips terribly red and swollen.

"Fuck, _Pearl."_ he grunted, pulling her up and grasping her wrists to place on a window sill. "Hold on."

Hermione heard the sound of his gloves falling to the ground, and his hands, bare this time, came up her hips, sliding her dress even higher. Pushing her head down so that she was bent with her arms extended upward, Severus lined himself up at her entrance.

"You're so tight, Pearl," he whispered, dirty, into her ear as he strained. His rigid cock was removed, and moments later replaced by his tongue, his fingers digging into her flanks as he lapped at her from behind. Sucking both sides of her opening into his mouth and releasing, nipping gently at her engorged clitoris and tonguing the tight hole as well, Severus had her shaking furiously in moments.

Standing back up, he slid inside her with no problem this time, burying himself to the hilt in her slick warmth. Moving against her back, he slid his arms around her waist, holding the weight of her body and making sure her arms didn't get tired holding onto the window ledge. Severus' fingers grasped for purchase on the wool of her coat and fisted his hands inside, against the warmth of Hermione's belly.

"So good," Severus crooned, the zipper of his trousers snagging against her stockings. "I want to feel you again."

Hermione released her wand arm from the window sill and snaked it downward, pulling one of Severus' hands with her. Together, they caressed and descended further, Severus' long, elegant finger combining with one of Hermione's delicate ones before delving into her heat and following the strokes of his penis. "_Fuck."_

"I know," Hermione replied, her voice tight and hoarse as they worked in tandem. Closer and closer they pushed until Hermione was keening. Nudging upward, Severus dislodged his thumb and put the pad onto Hermione's most sensitive spot. Rubbing briskly, she convulsed, and went limp, bent forward at the waist, and let Severus push her over the edge, pulling him with her.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Severus kissed the back of her neck, letting her sag against his chest for a long moment after he pulled his pants back around his waist. Hermione giggled, and pulled down her dress after kissing the stubble on his jaw.

"How about that drink?" said Hermione shakily, her legs quaking and her ankles threatening to give way and dump her on her arse.

Throwing his head back, he laughed, really laughed, in the night air. "I think a drink would be in order, sweet."

Kissing her temple and helping her mend her tights, he put his arm about her shoulders and escorted her into the Victoria Pub.

"Ole Vicky wouldn't be so pleased at what we've just done, would she?" Hermione commented, slipping into the warmth of the pub. Making their way to the end of the bar with Severus' hand resting possessively on the small of her back, they pushed through the throngs of people.

After ordering them both shots of vodka, he leaned down to tell her, "She had eight or nine children, I believe. I think she would heartily approve of what just occurred."

She hoisted herself up onto the padded leather bar stool with Severus' help, and he stood behind her, letting her lean her back into his chest. He smelled of his glorious smell: the same that she had thought of so often.

"What shall we toast to? It's not really the new year tonight, but we're celebrating it." Hermione asked, almost flirtatiously.

Severus thought for a moment, his vodka warming in his hand. "To 2001, then" he said succinctly.

"The world didn't end last year and it won't end this year," Hermione replied, holding up her tiny glass of clear liquid. Severus nodded gravely, clinking the edge of his glass against Hermione's.

"To 2001," he whispered, making eye contact with Hermione as the glasses were pulled slowly to their lips. They tipped their heads back sharply, letting the vodka slide down their throats and burn its way to their bellies.

Coughing a little, Hermione covered Severus' mouth with her own. "It's going to be better this year."

"You sound so sure," he replied, their foreheads still touching.

She kissed him again. "I am sure. It can't get worse."

"So, false optimism," said Severus, brushing his lips across hers again. "Even if you're at the bottom, its easier to climb out than to dig to China."

"Exactly," she replied, the vodka and sex making her effervescent and dangerous feeling. "We're going to beat the shit out of Riddle."

"Right you are," Severus agreed. "Another round?"

Hermione nodded her head, "If you insist. But we need to get back in time for dinner. Fleur has promised profiteroles."

"I cannot resist pastries," said Severus drolly. "And haven't you eaten enough today?"

Pretending to look enraged, Hermione sunk her teeth into his bicep. Severus let out a surprised howl of pain and rubbed at the bite through his coat. "I have a very fast metabolism, I'll have you know."

He kissed her soundly, on the mouth, in full view of the public. "You taste good," he mumbled.

"Will I get a kiss at midnight?" Hermione asked coyly, batting her lashes up at Severus and twining her left hand into his.

Severus gave her what she classified as a _look_. "I should think not. Its not actually New Year's, Pearl. They're just playing at it because you were unconscious during the real New Year's."

"Not even a little one?" she asked, tracing her finger over the grain in the bar top.

Scowling, he answered. "Possible. If you're good."

"Have I been good tonight?"

He looked her up and down. "What is your middle name? I should like to use it when I'm irritated at you."

Hermione was unable to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him before answering. "Jean."

"Who was Jean?" he asked, motioning to the bartender for another drink. "Have another."

Quickly, two more little glasses of vodka were put in front of them. "My Godmother. What's yours?"

He pressed one of the glasses into her palm, tapped his against hers and let the vodka slide down his throat. He took it as if it were water and answered, "Julien. After my mother's father."

"Severus Julien..." Hermione said, trying it out, letting it fall over her teeth and into the air. "I quite like it. Julien is the name of the(or a) man with an earring."

Scoffing he replied, "You'll never let me forget that I've told you that, shall you?"

"No."

"Please?" asked Severus rather nicely. "I'll give you sexual favors in return."

"I rather think so anyhow," replied Hermione neatly, getting up from her bar stool. She took her glass and knocked it back with almost as much ease as Severus had. After laying a few quid on the bar, she took his hand and nearly jerked him back out into the street. "I want after- sex profiteroles. Now."


	27. Chapter 27

I'm so sorry for the delay, but the past few weeks have been very hard and my muse has been very reluctant. A second, unrelated, death occurred the day after my friend's funeral, and compounded with a week of the flu, I've not been in the right mind to write.

I hope you'll forgive this really awful chapter and stand with me as I push through my haze.

0=0=0=0=0

The morning light slanted, unfortunately, directly over Hermione's eyes as she laid in bed, one leg thrown over Severus' torso. She groaned, and her groan was one of pure, unadulterated agony.

"Severus," she whispered, her voice echoing more loudly than physics would state.

His cool hand landed over her mouth. "Do. Not. Speak," Severus commanded. "Pocket of my jacket."

Laying over the side of the bed, she groped on the ground for his blazer and snuck her fingers into the front pocket, closing them over a phial.

Popping open the stopper with one hand, Severus took a sip and passed to over to Hermione, and she swallowed the rest. "La gueule de bois," he swore, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets roughly.

Nearly instantly, the buzzing behind her eyes disappeared and Dobby and his band of carpenters vacated her skull. "Thank you, Severus. So much," Hermione said, opening her eyes and looking around. "Do you smell food?"

There was _plenty _of food the night before. Fleur had indeed made profiteroles, and a huge assortment of other delicacies to follow Molly's decadent feast featuring chicken cordon bleau, a whole roasted pork haunch, steak and kidney pie, scallops, Yorkshire Pudding, cottage pie, kedgeree, treacle tart, mashed potatoes, string beans, corn, roasted potatoes and dozens of desserts.

From her seat between Ginny and Ron, in the plum colored Weasley sweater she'd just been given ("I'm sorry you couldn't have this on Christmas, dear," Molly fretted as Hermione pulled it over her head, "but there were ever so many to make this year that I had four sets of needles going full tilt round the clock."), she looked down the length of the table, at all the smiling faces, chatting and laughing. Even Severus was smiling slightly at something Draco had said, gesturing with a chicken leg. He looked handsome, Hermione thought, in his dark blue version of the Weasley sweater. Draco had been given one as well, in pale blue with a white nautical stripe across the chest, and Luna sat next to him, in a white sweater with a blue chest stripe mirror imaging Draco's. Most of the people at the two long tables in the dining room wore their Weasley sweater, those who didn't only couldn't because theirs were dirty. There was a particular fragility about Mrs. Weasley this year that struck the heart of all of the Order. She could be found crying over the smallest thing- burning a casserole, one of the twin's stink bombs, looking at her own Phoenix Mark. It was an unspoken agreement amongst the others to make this Fake New Year's Eve at the Fake Colonial perfect for Molly.

And it was.

"So, did you have a good time?" Ginny asked, nudging her friend with her elbow in between portions of roasted potatoes.

Hermione smiled, her cheeks flushing darkly. "It was lovely. Thank you for making the reservations for me."

"Any time," replied Ginny. "It looks like you had _plenty _of fun."

"Gah, Gins!" Ron choked, half a bite of sauteed onion hanging from the corner of his mouth. "I'm eating here."

Hermione dug her index finger in between two of his ribs and he yelped. "I have two words for you, Weasley: Eloise Midgen."

He bristled, "Her nose is on much better now."

"And 'Mione is allowed to sleep with anyone she wants," Ginny replied, sticking out her tongue at her brother.

"I don't even want to hear that," Draco said from down the table, "and he's my godfather."

Hermione glanced down at Severus, but he had turned to his right and was speaking with Charlie. "I _like _him. And its still none of your business."

"Oh, look!" Fred cried (or maybe George).

The other twin started up the rhyme loudly, "Its 'Mione and Sevvie sitting in a tree-"

"A-V-A-D-A K-E-D-A-V-R-A," Severus deadpanned, an almost smile quirking the edge of his lips, a silver spoon dangling between his fingers.

The room went silent for a full three seconds, then, starting with Molly Weasley, the table erupted into laughter- Bill throwing his arm around Fred and George, Neville laughing so hard he fell backwards out of his seat, tears rolling down Ginny's face and Arthur burying his head into his wife's neck, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Only Severus remained silent, a smile playing on his lips, comfortably chewing on his baguette and sipping at a little red wine.

When the laughter had dropped off to a few mirthful gasps and chuckles, the world was peaceful and happy- just for a moment. Hermione and Severus met eyes down the table, and he slowly blinked at her, contentment flowing between them.

They retired to the sitting room, putting on the telly and watching the recorded musical acts for a while as the wine, beer, champagne and other spirits flowed freely. Hannah, Padma and Ernie started up a game of Twister and it was communally agreed that Fleur was unnaturally flexible and she would not be allowed to compete. Bill threw out a disk in his back trying to keep up with his wife and Narcissa obligingly fixed him up before showing them that although she was over forty, she could still _move_. Draco was duly embarrassed, but very proud of his Mum.

In the kitchen, Ginny and Tonks had put together a champagne fountain for the ball drop and levitated it carefully into the sitting room where they sat it on one of the coffee tables.

A scantily clad woman on the screen announced that it was only ten seconds from the new year and Hermione, with Severus' arm reluctantly holding her close to his side, looked around, the television shining on their friends' faces as they counted down the moments to the new year- the newness that they were longing for, the ability to close the door on the previous year.

They were huddled around the box- the whole Order of the Phoenix and the air was full of hope. Their hero was dead, they had fled their homes, they had left their possessions, their whole lives behind- _every single one of them_ had decided that their cause was more important than anything in their lives- more important than their family, their jobs, their dreams, their prized possessions.

Hermione felt a tear trickle out of the corner of one eye as the group chanted down the numbers to the new year, but it was not a sad tear- it was one of complete and unadulterated hope.

"To 2001," Severus whispered into her ear as the clock rolled over. As she lifted her chin to him, he kissed her gently and quickly before they broke apart to wish their companions a happy new year.

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Severus rolled over in their warm bed and pushed his face into the back of his lover's neck as the hangover remedy worked its course.

"I've got to get to work, love," Hermione said, pulling away from his warmth. "I don't want to, but I need to."

He sighed, his whole body deflating. "What do you need me to do?"

Chuckling, she responded, "Make sure there's enough hangover remedy. I'm going to be in here with Ernie working on the way to get to North Rona to get our captives back most of the morning, I think, but I want to have a meeting after lunch. Will you make sure Tonks knows?"

He said that he would, tightening his arms around her waist. "Just a few more minutes."

"Nope," Hermione replied. "I'm in the zone."

Slipping out of his grasp and onto the carpet, Hermione went to her little closet and selected clothing for the day before stripping unabashedly out of her nightwear.

Severus sucked in a breath, the vivid reds, golds and oranges of her phoenix mark against her smooth skin shocking him for a moment. "Which star is mine?"

Pulling a pair of utilitarian cotton underwear up her thighs, she held out her arm to him, pointing to one. "That one."

"What happens if you touch my mark?" Severus asked, pulling the covers down and off of his bicep where his phoenix mark resided.

She shrugged in reply, tugging her shirt over her wild hair. "Lets see."

He sat up, allowing her easier access. As her fingertips brushed the mark, they both felt a pleasant warming sensation spread across their bodies.

"Nothing happens when you touch mine, though," Hermione said, going back to her dressing, which now included putting her hair up. "Because mine's the mother mark, so to speak."

"No need to be so proud," he replied, getting out of the bed and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She smiled, twisting a bit to be able to kiss his neck. "You certainly are affectionate this morning."

"You must have enchanted me," he whispered, unable to keep from smiling, even the smallest amount.

Hermione snorted, "You shouldn't try the romantic thing. It doesn't suit you."

Agreeing with her, he let his arms loosen to stretch above his head, a vertebrae popping. "If I see Ernie, I'll send him to you."

"Thanks," Hermione replied, flicking her wand at her rumpled sheets and erasing some of the writing on her wall.

People filtered in and out of Hermione's room all through the morning, and she barely stopped working to get a sandwich before the meeting. The gathered were more sedate than usual, slumped over in their chairs and still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes although it was one in the afternoon.

Without Hermione's prompt, Padma began with the reading of the minutes.

"Right, then," Hermione began. "I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to order. Most of you have noticed that the hive is buzzing again this morning. Tomorrow, our teams will be attempting the rescue of our hostages. Specialist MacMillian has charted the best method of entry onto the Island of North Rona from Sula Sgeir. Lieutenant Longbottom, how did you, Private Thomas and Captain Charlie fare in your 'aquisition'?"

Neville stood up from he place on a sofa next to Ginny, "We were able to 'liberate' what we needed," he said with a wry smile. "In fact, Lovegood and Malfoy already have the crafts in the garage, fully enlarged and started on the charms."

"Excellent," Hermione replied. "Good to know. Lieutenant Lovegood, how goes the charm work?"

Luna looked up at Hermione and put her hand on top of Draco's head. "Draco knows some interesting navigation and stabilizing charms. I think we can be done tonight."

"That's on course then. Second Order- Lance Corporals Weasley, I hope I can count on you for more ammunition this go around?" Hermione asked, giving a pointed look at the twins.

"Oh, sure," Fred said. "We've got these new things called wacky balls. I'm sure you'll think they're-"

"Inmature? Childish? Bonkers?" George interrupted.

"-very painful," finished Fred with a wicked looking grin.

Hermione sighed, "Much obliged."

"Any time," they replied in unison.

That brought some smiles and a few scattered laughs from the group. "Next up," continued Hermione, "has anyone made any progress with the Riddle not-being-able-to-curse-him predicament?"

Severus stood, "I've reviewed all angles of the pensieve memories of the last encounter with him, and nothing about his appearance seems off or different. Nott and Malfoy Senior are keeping their eyes open, though."

"Thank you, Major," nodded Hermione, jotting down a few words in her little notebook. "Anyone else?"

"I've been looking into using a liquid carrier for a sort of shield charm, but all the arithmancy doesn't work out. It wouldn't be stable," said Bill.

Neville asked, "Had it been considered that he is no longer human enough for spells to affect? I know we ruled out reptile, but what if he's more like a... I don't know- demon?"

The group began to twitter amongst themselves and the volume grew until Hermione asked for silence a second time. "I don't believe Riddle would become a demon after splitting his soul. It is possible, though, that magic does not register him as a _living _being."

"One can animate corpses, can they not?" Narcissa pointed out, looking a bit nauseated at the idea of walking dead bodies.

Severus nodded, "Muggles, who don't have the magical core we possess, can be charmed or hexed as well. I stand firm in my belief that what is protecting him is an amulet of a variety."

"But it doesn't matter, does it?" Dean asked from his seat on the floor. "We're going to blow his brains to bits, then we'll figure that out, right?"

Hermione sighed. "It is always best to go into a dangerous situation with as much information as possible."

"I know its silly," chimed in Ginny, "but last meeting someone mentioned banishing his garments. Wouldn't any talisman come with them?"

"He's not just going to let it waltz off," Draco retorted. "There would be tons of extra protection. It might not even be an object- it could be a tattoo or something."

Holding up her hand to silence the chatter, Hermione said, "Keep thinking, everyone. This is good. I'd like to move on, now, to the subject of muggle firearms. Who would like to volunteer for a position in the quote and end quote firing squad?"

Instantly more than three-quarters of the hands in the room shot up at various heights. Hermione smiled, and chuckled a bit before gesturing for them to lower their hands. "I should have expected that."

Ron spoke up, "I think the most experienced and senior members of the Order should be packing heat."

"Did you just say packing heat?" Katie giggled. Ron blushed crimson and she continued. "I think just the opposite. Leave the best duellists with their wands and let the less powerful members carry the weapons."

"I believe we can come up with some kind of compromise on that one," Hermione smiled, exchanging a quick look with Severus. "But we're first going to have to learn how to shoot the damn things."

Ernie told the group, "Muggles have these places called shooting ranges that they go to practice shooting their guns. I'm sure we could find one on the internet close by."

"Get on that," nodded Hermione. "In the meantime, I want all of you to be thinking about where it would be best to confront the Death Eaters when we are ready to deliver the, pardon the pun, last blow to the head."

The chatter started up again, this time more excitedly. _They _were going to end it! On their terms! Hermione snuck another look over at Severus, and he stared back into her eyes, nodding his head slowly. She could almost hear the thought in his head, echoing through the distance between them.

Well done, my dear girl. Well done.


	28. Chapter 28

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Something was different, Hermione noticed, in the mood of the whole house. She was barely into wakefulness, her pillow thrust over her eyes to guard against the early January light, but the change was palpable. It felt stronger, more sure of purpose and ready to move forward. Slipping out of bed and through the empty kitchen, Hermione indulged in a post-dawn cigarette. The wind came steadily from the north east, rustling the pine trees at the edge of the property and playing with the fur on the tails of the squirrels gathering nuts to hold between their two human like hands and nibble.

The door slid open and closed before Hermione turned around to see who it was.

"I just put on a pot of coffee to brew," Charlie said, shaking out a cigarette for himself. Hermione nodded, offering the lit tip of her wand to him. He drew deeply, like Hermione, and watched the snow, the trees and the squirrels.

"Ready?" Charlie asked quietly after they had smoked to the filters. "I mean, for the North Atlantic."

She nodded, "It'll be good to have them back and home."

"Its going to be colder there. When I was on St. Kilda, on the reserve, I swear, I wore at least three pairs of pants some days," Charlie chuckled, opening the door for his commander.

She shuddered. "I hope not."

"Make sure you've got layers," he suggested, pouring two cups of coffee and setting one in front of Hermione.

"Thanks," she said, grabbing a day old brioche and heading towards the stairs to wake the rest of her squadron.

On the third floor, Neville sat quietly on his bed reading a paper-back while the only other awake people, Tonks and Ginny, sat at the foot of his bed assembleing packets of Fred and George's latest creations to distribute into the bandoliers.

"Morning," chirped Ginny, dropping three hematite colored spheres into a pouch.

Neville rolled his eyes before turning the page. "She's been like this since she woke up an hour ago at five thirty."

"Chipper," Ginny retorted. "Of course. We're going to get out men back and kick some werewold arse!"

"I may or may not have given her a calming draft already," Tonks commented.

"Another one would be in order," Ron groaned from under his pillow.

Lee made a similar noise from his bed.

"Knock it off, guys, its six thirty. A fine time to be awake," Neville said, putting down his book.

"I just wanted to make sure you guys were up and awake and would be ready to leave in forty five minutes," said Hermione, exiting back down the stairs.

From the sounds coming from the second floor bathroom, Draco and Luna were awake and together, so she marked them off her mental list and tried to scrub the sound bite from her conciousness.

She knocked lightly on the closed bedroom door belonging to Bill and Fleur and said, "Go time in forty five minutes. Be ready, both of you!"

Sounding somewhat chastised and giggling, they assured her that they would be there.

Only Severus left to check in on. Knowing that he wouldn't still be asleep, she went to the cellar instead of his shared room. Stopping to pour him a cup of coffee as she went, Hermione took the stairs two at a time.

"I brought you coffee," she called out.

Severus poked his head out of the closet with the hot water heater where some of the required potions ingredients were kept.

"Much obliged," he replied, coming out with his arms laden down with various substances.

As she helped him to unwrap the ingredients and set them out on the work table, she asked, "What're you brewing?"

"I'm working on the base for another batch of wolfsbane, should our POWs have need of it," explained Severus. "I'll not be able to finish it until the next new moon on Thursday next, but at least the base will be complete and will save me valuable time then."

"I'll leave you to it, then," Hermione said, kissing him lightly on the bottom of his chin, the point she could reach easiest.

He ran his palms up her arms. "You can stay, if you are quiet."

She declined, shaking her head, her curls rubbing the stubble on his face and catching lightly. "I really should make sure everything is in order upstairs."

"I duplicated a set of backpacks that we can put the boats in once we've gotten to North Rona," said Severus, walking to the far corner of the laboratory to pick up two dark canvas packs. "Have someone put some waterproof charms and such on them before we go."

The canvas was sturdy and comfortably worn under Hermione's fingers. "Where did you get this?"

"It was on my back the whole way from Paris," smirked Severus. "I've had it since my Oxford days."

Childishly, she stuck her tongue out at him. "I had a few other things on my mind, remember? Like trying to save the world?"

"I fail to see how that is an excuse," he deadpanned.

They met eyes, a clever sparkle in Severus'. Hermione laughed. "Be in the sitting room at seven fifteen for a seven thirty portkey, yeah?"

With that, she dissappeared up the stairs. Charlie and Ernie were sitting together at the counter, their heads together over a small map of North Rona.

"Hey, Hermione," Charlie said, gesturing for her to come over and look at what they had figured out.

"Look at this."

Ernie gestured excitedly at a small squiggle on the map. Hermione looked at him blankly. "It's a cave system that goes from here, on the shore, to inland, here, near St. Ronan's chapel. You can follow it from the shore and surprise them from the opposite side!"

"I think not," replied Hermione flatly. "We're already doing enough exciting things by battling werewolves and taking dinghys through the north Atlantic in January."

Charlie elbowed Ernie. "Told you she wouldn't go for it."

"Quite right, Charlie," she said, tossing the two backpacks on the counter. "Make yourselves useful and make these weather proof, would you?"

Not giving them a chance to reply, she shut the door. Opening the center drawer of the desk next to her bed, she withdrew the remaining extra wands they had in stock. Hermione frowned. Only six left: a stiff hazel and manticore heartstring, a petite veela hair and hawthorne, a thick ash and unicorn hair, vine and runespore leather, another hazel, this one with phoenix feather and a long, slender rowan and quartz. Binding them together with a long leather thong, Hermione took them back out into the kitchen.

"Put three wands each into the side compartments of the backpacks, so they're easy to get to when we get to the prisoners, please," Hermione said, laying the wands out on the counter. "You still have a spare wand, right Charlie?"

He said that he did, and she went back into her room, this time to dress warmly in wool socks, leggings with a built in warming charm (Christmas gift from her parents five years ago), and the uniform Ginny and Fleur had provided.

Although her calf length wool coat was warm and stylish, a closer cut would be far more practical in the North Atlantic. With a heavy heart, Hermione began to transfigure her coat's length and add a furred lining and hood.

"Hey, 'Mione," Ginny said, not bothering to knock as she came in. "I borrowed some never fly away hair ties from Parvati. Can you braid my hair so that its out of the way?"

Hermione smiled. "Sure. You have to do mine, though, after."

"You have a deal," she replied, settling on the bed tailor style.

Gently, Hermione combed out any tangles in Ginny's dark red hair and let the silky strands slip through her fingers as she started a tight french braid at the crown of her head. Ginny flinched a few times, but said nothing about it.

"Does it make me a bad person, 'Mione, that I wish it was Harry we had found and not anyone else?" Ginny asked in a small voice as Hermione began braiding down the back of her shoulders.

Hermione tugged a little harder than she meant to, but soothed the hurt with her hands gently. "It makes you an honest person, little love."

The only sound was the slip of hair between Hermione's fingers until Ginny said, "It doesn't mean I'm not going to fight hard for them today."

Hermione pulled hard again. This time she meant to.

Ginny took longer to braid Hermione's hair, but it ended up tight and secure.

In the sitting room, Charlie and Neville were going over the map together white Draco, Fleur and Bill began to fasten together their bandoliers.

"Come on, Fleur, just carry it. You don't have to use it, but please," Bill was saying, holding out a short bladed knife hilt first to his wife.

She shook her head vehemently, her hair falling over both shoulders, "I have my wand. Eet will be enough."

He shook his head, still holding out the knife, "Je m'en fou, Fleur! Take the knife."

"Ta Gueule!" She spat, taking it from him and slipping it into her holster before spinning away to look at the map with Charlie and Neville.

Ginny put her hand on her eldest brother's shoulder. Bill continued to shake his head as he said, "Well, she took it, didn't she?"

Hermione picked up her bandolier and wand sheath, working with Ginny to get them both buckled on properly. She flicked her wrist, her wand sliding easily into her grasp. A second flex put her knife in the attack position. "Perfect," she muttered.

"Could you assist me?" Severus asked quietly, his mouth only millimeters from her ear, tickling it. She pressed it down onto her shoulder and wiggled, satisfying the itch.

Taking the black leather wrist sheath from him, she replied, "Of course."

"Portkey in two minutes," Luna said loudly, coming in the room holding a glowing purple fork in each hand.

As Hermione finished the buckles on Severus' sheath, she called out, "All right, everyone! My squadron with me, Severus' on the other side of the room. Make sure you have your gloves, hats and scarves already fitted with warming and waterproof charms. While you're at it, make sure your shoes and clothes are waterproofed as well!"

Charlie and Neville abandoned the map, shaking hands and gathering next to their squadron leader. Hermione made eye contact with her lover and she smiled, giving him a nod.

"One minute," said Luna, putting Severus' fork in front of him on the coffee table.

"Make sure all walkie talkies are on channel five point two when we land! Communication is paramount!" reminded Hermione, pulling on her backpack. "Get in and get out as soon as possible! Make sure you have your portkey lockets!"

The fork began to glow bright white and they touched their fingers to it, Ginny's brushing Hermione's not accidentally, to reassure her, but really more to reassure herself.

Portkeying over this distance felt like what Hermione thought being put in a human sized clothes dryer would feel like. They were slammed down, hard, on the rocky earth of Sula Sgeir. They were scattered on a relatively steep slope, heading down into the frothing and churning dark sea, and it was lightly raining. The sky was deep black and no light was coming from the hidden moon.

"Merde," Fleur swore, rubbing her bottom where she landed on a particularly vicious outcrop of rock.

Quietly, but efficiently, Ginny turned her head and threw up, unfortunately, on her brother's shoes, "Sorry, Chars," she said weakly, wiping at her mouth with her coat sleeve.

Hermione lay flat on her back for several long moments before rolling over and getting up. "Hate that."

"This is one big, bloody rock, isn't it?" Charlie commented, "What if we'd portkeyed a further three meters down? We'd drown."

"Right-o you are," Hermione remarked, taking out her walkie talkie. "All in?"

A muffled static came over the talkie, then Severus' voice, "We're all in one piece."

"Proceed to the water, then," she said, pulling the miniature boat out of the backpack. Speaking to the others, Hermione continued, "On down, everyone. That little flat bit of rock will have to do for us."

Carefully, with Charlie in the lead, they began a slow crawl down the massive rock. When at the bottom, Hermione tossed the little boat into the pounding waves and took careful aim, "_Engorgio!"_

From out of the water rose a twenty foot long white fiberglass boat, strangely still in the turbulent water.

"Remind me to tell Draco and Luna what a good job they did on the charms," Hermione whispered to Ginny as Charlie hoisted himself aboard and held out his arms in a gentlemanly fashion for the ladies.

Their shoes squeaked on the deck as Ginny and Fleur raised the small, blue canopy to keep the worst of the rain off of them. Charlie headed to the bow to the controls and in short order had the boat crossing the strait between them and North Rona.

Hermione shivered and huddled closer to Ginny and Fleur under the canopy. They were all warm- that had been assured by their warming and water repelling charms. For the first time since the mission was announced, Hermione let herself think of werewolves.

Unfortunately, she had an intense fear of the creatures- except of course Remus, apart from the awful encounter third year. But how must Severus be feeling? He was the best man Hermione had ever known, and her thoughts only strengthened that thought.

He had been attacked by a werewolf- Lupin, while he was in school. Yet, he still came to their rescue in the shrieking shack despite his justified fear and pushed she and Harry behind his arms.

She could still see his back in front of them, his arms outstretched to cover as much of them as possible, leaving vulnerable his abdomen and throat, his black cloak rippling in the night wind. His hands did not shake.

Had there ever been a man more dedicated to his cause? Suddenly, the depth of what she was into with Severus hit her hard, like an iron fist socking her right below the sternum.

Swallowing with difficulty, Hermione tried to clear her head for the mission ahead as North Rona came looming into view.


	29. Chapter 29

You almost didn't get this chapter (ever) because I have recently become addicted to stumbleupon. It's a serious problem and I'm looking for a twelve step program in my area.

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The crunch of rock and sand under the keel signaled their landing on North Rona with a dull, but jarring, scrape and crash.

"We've landed," said Charlie into his walkie talkie, offering his arm to Fleur as she disembarked. Neville's voice came from the other end confirming. "We're making our way to the objective."

The rain was heavier as Hermione shrunk the boat again, stuffing it into her backpack. "All right, everyone. You know the objectives. Captain Charlie, you go on ahead and we'll follow in several minutes. Captain Weasley, Sergeant Major Delacoeur, wands at the ready to subdue any and all resistance. I will follow rear and make sure the prisoners are portkeyed safely away."

"Can we pray, s'il vous plait?" Fleur asked, holding out her hands to the group. Hermione took one of her's and Ginny's left, and the others completed the circle. Fleur began to pray quietly, in French, but the power of her words although barely understood affected them palpably. "_Ô mon Dieu, appuyé sur ta puissance infinie et sur tes promesses, j'espère avec une ferme confiance obtenir le pardon de mes péchés, l'assistance de ta grâce et la vie éternelle, par les mérites de Jésus_ _Christ_ _mon Sauveur."_

The wind whistled past their ears and the cold permeated up from the ground, through their boots, and through Fleur's whispered prayers, all was peaceful.

With a final squeeze, they let go.

"Godspeed, Chars," Ginny said. "We'll be after in a minute."

After casting several high level notice me not charms and a dissillusionment charm, he began his way to St. Ronan's Chapel. The women stood in silence for several long minutes, then Hermione jerked her head indicating their cue to follow. They did not bother with charms to mask their presence, but set off at a light run in the direction Charlie went, not looking back over their shoulders even once.

Hermione checked the security of her gear- the backpack was snapped securely across her chest, the extra wands tucked away in easy reach.

When Ginny and Fleur reached the horizon, Hermione began after them. The ground crunched with frost under her feet and the rocks occasionally came loose and tripped her up. After ten minutes, she saw a flash of violet light, followed by a shower of red stars and then a sickly green flash. Hermione doubled her speed, unsheathing her wand and her knife.

The ruined Chapel of St. Ronan came into view in flashes as the hexes, jinxes and curses lit up the inside with spell light.

"_Protego!"_ Ginny shouted, throwing up a shield for her eldest brother as his back was turned to shoot a stunner off at one of the werewolves. She threw one of the twins' ice balls with deadly accuracy, hitting the werewolf in the side of the face and freezing him in place.

Severus, on the other side of the runs was dueling fiercely with two werewolves- one that Hermione didn't recognize with a long, curved blade and Greyback. Neville was bleeding from his shoulder and kneeling in front of Sturgis Podmore's cage with his wand out attempting to break the locking enchantments. Draco, from directly behind him, was subduing a wild looking dark haired man wielding a long club as well as his wand. Ducking behind the altar of the chapel, Draco reached into his bandolier for a wacky ball, bouncing it over the ground towards the werewolf where it rocketed upwards into his groin, flooring him so that Draco could bind him with rope.

Red bolt of light- Shit! Fleur's down.

Ok, just a stunner.

Hermione hit the scene and quickly grabbed Fleur by the ankle after hitting her with a feather light charm. Half of Herimone cringed, disgusted with her desecration, and blasted half of an ancient wall away, laying Fleur down behind the rubble. From the north, three more werewolves- two females and a male crested the ridge with wide, loping strides.

"Charlie! Ginny! North!" Hermione cried out, pointing. They broke away from Neville and Draco, crouching for cover by the north section of the ruins. "_Flipendo!" _

Greyback had gotten away from Severus, who was still dueling with the werewolf Hermione didn't recognize. He growled, "_Diffendo!"_

"_Protego! Stupefy!" _Hermione countered, dancing to his right to shoot the second spell at his side. He countered, his pale yellow eyes glowing eerily in the dark.

Wandlessly, Greyback shot a bolt of white energy towards Hermione, which she rolled to dodge, smearing frost and dirt over the side of her face. "Pretty little girl," he crooned, looking her up and down as she stood fully alert and ready to attack. She made to get into her pouch for a butterfly or an ice ball, but decided against.

Hermione screamed out in blind anger, her _everte statum _he countered with a _duro, _which she dodged, going to the ground again, casting a _deprimo_. Greyback shielded against her last hex and sent a _confringo_, setting fire to Hermione's coat on the shoulder and burning her painfully before she was able to roll over and over to put the brilliant blue white flames out.

Nonverbally, Hermione sent a powerful _sectumsempra_, which caught him on the forearm, spilling blood out and down his wand hand. As he cried out in pain, he let off a _furnunculous_. Hermione dodged, not bothering to counter, and threw _expulso_ at Greyback's feet, exploding the Earth from under him and knocking him fifteen feet backwards towards Ginny and Charlie.

Almost casually, Ginny stunned Greyback with an ice ball and went back to her duel with the two females who were obviously quite angry at the euthanasia of their male companion.

Ignoring the searing in her shoulder, she ducked between the dueling pairs to Neville, who had Sturgis across his lap. "Is he alive?" Hermione demanded, feeling rapidly for a pulse on his chilly neck. Low and faint, but there. "Put him aside and work on the others."

"Hermione," Remus whispered from inside his cage.

"Quiet, Remus," admonished Hermione gently. "We'll talk when you're out of here."

He nodded, his chin limply resting on his chest after a moment. He was naked, as were the others, and in poor physical health, but his eyes were bright.

"I need a blanket, Hermione," Neville said, taking off his own cloak and wrapping Podmore in it.

"Backpack," she responded, the golden light from her wand popping open the lock on Remus' cage. "Come on, Remus. Up and out of there."

Draco shouted, "_Protego!" _as a bolt of purple fire whizzed towards Hermione and Neville.

Erupting pain- between Hermione's shoulder blades. All she knew was black. Quiet, peace. No pain. Just dark. Hermione realized that she still had control of her thoughts in this dark place- where had she been?

In the battle. Shit! Was she dead? No... the spell light was purple. So, not dead. Just here. Can she move her toes. Try, try.

No wiggle.

Damn.

Replay battle: who was down? Fleur was down. Greyback down. Who else? Anyone else? Neville was bleeding a lot. She had been burnt badly. Who else? Was Severus still dueling that man with the knife? He was a good duellist, he'd be fine. What about Ginny and Charlie and those two females? Where was Bill?

This isn't helping. Don't think about anything. Someone will wake me up soon.

Just concentrate on the lack of pain. It feels nice, right?

No, pain's coming back. Is that Severus' voice? Is he ok?

"Pearl," he whispered, his hand on her cheek. Cold hand. "Come on, love."

She groaned, putting her hands over her face. "Ow."

"Where does it hurt?" he asked, gently prodding over her scalp to check for fractures.

Opening her eyes a fraction, she answered, "Burn salve. Please."

Severus leaned away from her, his body making his shadow distort against the ceiling of the tent. Tent? She shot upright, her head spinning as she sat up, and smacked her head on the brace of the bunk over hers. It had been hers, when she was on the run with Harry and Ron. Her quilt was still on the bed, warm below her body.

"How long has it been?" demanded Hermione, her eyes darting around. "I need a full report."

Looking at Hermione disapprovingly, Severus replied, "No casualties on our side. Miss Weasley sustained a badly broken arm, Miss Delacoeur has been brought back around and she's fighting mad that she was stunned. Longbottom has been put to rights but will need a blood replenishing potion upon return to the Fake Colonial. Charlie, Bill and Draco are fine and are currently taking care of the werewolves."

"Taking care of?" she asked as Severus began rubbing a pinkish gel into her shoulder and making her hiss with pain.

He nodded, spreading more onto her skin. "Two were killed, one with a blood boiling hex from Miss Weasley and the other from a knife and Charlie. Greyback will wish he is dead when Riddle gets a hold of him, but for now, he and the others have been neutralized. That is, they're unconscious. If we're lucky, it'll snow and they'll freeze to death."

"Good," she pronounced. "And how are the POWs?"

Capping the burn salve and handing Hermione a pepper up and a hydration solution, Severus said, "Podmore remains unconscious, and we have chosen to leave him that way. It does not look like he will survive, but Miss Weasley is adament. Kingsley and Lupin are up and about, but that's to be expected because they've been captive for the shortest amount of time."

"Lavender?" prodded Hermione, quickly repairing the burn in her coat.

Severus hesitated. "She's... traumatized."

"I would expect," Hermione snorted, downing the two potions in quick secession. "She's been naked and in a _cage _for more than four months, Severus."

He turned pink, purposefully looking away, "Lupin... is the only one who could calm her."

"And?" she demanded, swinging her legs over the side and getting up.

"It seems that Lupin derived a great deal of comfort as well from Miss Brown," replied Severus, studiously looking at the floor. "I believe he was forced to rape her, and instead of it causing a psychological repulsion, it bound them together."

"Oh, God," she whispered, suddenly sick to her stomach. "Do you really think-"

"It was fairly screaming from their minds," replied Severus shortly. "I believe we should put all four of them together in the room in the basement for a while, until they are recovering well. It should give us time to explain the situation to Tonks."

Hermione could not speak, and only nodded her head. "What time is it?"

"It is a quarter til two in the afternoon, Fake Colonial time," he answered, letting her change the subject with grace.

She was grateful, and said, "We need to get out of here. I don't want to know what happens when their exit wards are tripped."

"I believe the others are ready for transport when you give the word," Severus said, holding open the door into the main room of the tent for Hermione.

"Thank you," she whispered, her shoulder brushing the fabric Severus held to the side.

Charlie, Bill and Fleur sat around the small folding table, coffee in their mittened hands, talking in hushed voices. Ginny and Draco hovered over Sturgis, who was laid out on the sofa, and hurriedly cast several diagnostic charms. In the kitchen, Neville washed out a few coffee cups in the sink while Kingsley dried them, a frail brittle look to the tall black man. They had duplicated some clothing for the captives- Kingsley and Remus were dressed in matching outfits that looked startlingly like the one Charlie wore and Lavender was dressed in Ginny's clothing. Lavender and Remus were sitting close together on the large, squashy chair next to Sturgis' sofa. Her still dirty long blonde hair was falling over her face, obscuring her eyes and some of it resting on Remus' arm familiarly.

Poor Tonks. Poor Remus and Lavender. Hermione sighed. It was a bad lot all around. And she'd be the one to have to tell her.

First thing first, Hermione went to Ginny and Draco and said, "What's the prognosis?"

Draco shook his head slowly, then looked to Ginny to answer.

"Its bad," she admitted. "Kingsley told us that two days ago, Sturgis was taken out of his cage and they beat on him for a while, including picking him up and dropping him on his head."

"He's got a lot of fluid on his brain," said Draco. "Show her with that spell, Weasley."

Ginny cast the spell he requested, and showed Hermione a cross section of Podmore's brain. "He's comatose, officially," Ginny pronounced. "I don't know anything about brain injuries, Hermione."

"Give him a bubble head charm with interior oxygen density at 100%," Hermione instructed. "Then, Draco, take off the blankets and get him outside. Lowering his body temperature will take down swelling."

Ginny's wand paused over Sturgis' neck, ready to cast the bubble head when she said, "I don't think it'll be necessary, 'Mione."

Hermione put her hand to the side of his neck. "Fuck," she whispered, probing deeper for a pulse. "Fuck."

She sat back on the coffee table, her hands dangling limp and useless between her knees.

"I'll get a grave ready," Draco said quietly, turning his head away.

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"We've got to do something with him," reasoned Ginny. "We can't just leave him on the ground."

"Incinerate his body," Hermione whispered. "The Death Eaters can't be allowed to have his body and if we bury him here, on North Rona, they'll have it. I can't even imagine what they would do to him. Burn him, and they'll have nothing."

Draco nodded, making eye contact with Severus across the tent. Gently, the two men lifted Sturgis and made their way outside. Lavender began to cry quietly into Remus' chest. He closed his eyes, struggling to keep his tears in check and pulled her closer, his large hand cradling her head gently, idly stroking her ear with his thumb. A cold burst of air filled the tent as they carried Sturgis out.

No one spoke for quite a time, the only sounds were Lavender's quiet hiccoughs and the steady clink of dishes in the sink.

Placing his arm around Hermione as he came back into the tent with Draco, Severus alerted her that the job was complete. She nodded, willing herself to stay strong and calm.

"Right, everyone," she said. Ten faces looked up at her intently. "Its time to get out of here. Remus, Kingsley, Lavender- we have wands for you."

Neville nodded, getting into his pack for the spare wands. Remus chose the veela hair and hawthorne, Kingsley the rowan and quartz, leaving the ash and unicorn for Lavender.

"Now we're going to make our way back to the shore so that we can use a boat to return to Sula Sgeir. There are anti-apparation and anti-portkey enchantments on this area of the island," Hermione explained, "and as I don't know where those enchantments end, we're going to take the safe way out and cross the channel again. Lieutenant Longbottom, Lieutenant Major Bill, please take care of stowing the tent. Captain Ginny, Captain Malfoy and Sergeant Major Delacoeur, you go on ahead and scout the route. When we're about to disappear from the horizon, shoot up red or green sparks, depending on whether we should follow."

Those three named moved quickly, Fleur placing her slender hand over Bill's for a brief moment as she walked by.

"Men-" Hermione began. They stopped, turned. "I just want you to know that you did a great job out there. Truly extraordinary work."

They relaxed a bit, then with a nod of Ginny's head, they departed.

"Are you up for the walk?" Hermione asked Lavender gently.

She nodded after making eye contact with Remus. "I think I'll be all right."

"You're safe now, Lavender," Hermione crooned. She did not make a move to touch her, but instead remained stone still as she spoke. "We're going to get you to some place safe where you will never, never be harmed that way again."

"Promise," insisted Lavender, her large blue eyes searching.

Hermione was taken aback by the plea, but none the less she answered. "For as long as you are under the protection of the Order of the Phoenix and therefore under my protection, Lavender Brown, I promise that I will do everything I can to make sure you are safe. You will never have to do what they made you do again. Ever."

Lavender seemed to calm a bit as Remus helped her off of the large, paisley patterned chair and lead her towards the door. Hermione sighed. Just another casualty.


	30. Chapter 30

0=0=0

"Commander," Ginny said quietly, sticking her head back inside the tent, "You've got to get out here."

Alarmed, Hermione crossed the tent in five quick strides, Severus coming to her side. Peeking out under the flap, her heart sunk, deep, like a rock into her stomach.

Beyond the soft shimmer of the wards, sat a dozen or so Death Eaters in a circle around a small fire.

"Fuck," she whispered. Turning back to those inside the tent she said, "All of you, wait inside. Arm yourself. Its a direct order."

She slipped out the door to stand next to Charlie, Severus and Ginny.

"What do you want to do?" asked Severus, his eyes darting over the the fire.

Hermione moistened her lips- a nervous habit and said, "We can't go up against them. Kingsley, Lavender and Remus would let them have an unfair advantage. Some of us are recovering."

"I've checked the wards on the perimeter again," Ginny inserted. "They've taken down the portkey wards, but all portkeys will be automatically re-routed to one of their places. I don't know where."

"Commander," said Charlie softly, "Do you remember what I showed you on the map before we left? The cave system?"

Hermione nodded. "I remember. What do you know about it?"

"Next to nothing," he replied, shrugging. "I just know its here."

Brown eyes scanning the horizon, she asked, "Where?"

"It should be close by," answered Charlie, looking around as if to find it.

"Ok," Hermione said. "Here's what we're going to do. Charlie, take Draco with you and find the mouth of the cave. Ginny, figure out how to get the POWs to the cave site and how to transport them through. Kingsley and Remus are strong enough to walk, I believe, with a pepper up, but Lavender is going to be dead weight."

"Right away." Ginny gave a short, militaristic nod and pivoted to go back inside.

"Severus," continued Hermione, "I want you to try to get a hold of Tonks- she's commanding officer in our absence. Make sure they have beds prepared and medical attention ready."

He agreed and pulled out his on call phone, dialing a number by heart. Hermione and Charlie went back into the tent.

"What's going on?" Bill whispered, low, into Hermione's ear.

"Give me a second," she replied, then raised her voice. "Attention, everyone. Thank you. As you may or may not already know, we are surrounded. There are a dozen Death Eaters camped not a meter outside of our wards. All evacuation plans have been put on hold until Captain Charlie and Captain Malfoy explore the option of going underground through a cave system to the coast."

Giving Charlie and Malfoy a short nod, Hermione turned back outside to stand with Severus while he spoke with Tonks.

"Topaz and Tanzanite are in one piece and ready to be set. The purple stone needs serious repair before we can do anything with it," Severus said into the receiver. "We're going to need supplies to work on them when they get to you, though. Make sure you have mountings to put them in, and supplies for the repairs."

He nodded, using one hand to pull down his hat over his chilled ears, then clicked the phone shut. Closing his eyes, Severus slipped the phone into the front pocket of his coat.

Sensing her presence, he said, "How are we going to explain Miss Brown and Lupin to Tonks?"

When their eyes met, Hermione was surprised to see his glistening with unshed tears. "Oh, Seveus," she whispered, closing the space between them and wrapping her arms around hm securely.

"Nymphadora is a fragile soul," he lamented. "What if the bond forged between Lupin and Miss Brown is not to be broken?"

Hermione nodded, her cheek brushing the wool of his coat. "Lavender's not going to be of any use to us now," she said callously. "I'll probably send her to a sympathizer like the Weasley's Aunt Muriel or Neville's grandmother. Remus and Tonks will be fine then."

"She's his wife," said Severus. "I don't know if a marriage could survive that. He was forced to _rape _Miss Brown."

"I know," Hermione whispered, letting the unspoken question remain between them. _What did you have to do when you were a __Death Eater__?_

He shook his head to clear it and promptly let her go. "We haven't the time," he said, looking pointedly at the gathered Death Eaters shimmering beyond their wards. Bringing his gaze back to her, their eyes meeting, Severus whispered, "But I promise you, Pearl. We will speak of it."

Inordinately jubilant, she stepped closer again and buried her face happily on his chest. She murmured, "I can't help it." _I love you._

Scoffing good naturedly, he ran his gloved hand over her hair. "You shouldn't, but I can't bring myself to withdraw."

"I knew you'd say that," she smirked, her forehead still pressed into him.

A moment later, the wards shimmered, then winked to admit Charlie and Draco, wet from the knee down but triumphant.

"It's good!" Charlie called, punching his fist into the air.

Hermione smiled widely, "How high is the water?"

"If we go now- and fast- we'll make it before the tide starts coming back in," Malfoy explained. "It's not far to the mouth of the cave, but we'll have to hurry or we'll be stuck here another ten hours until the next low tide."

"We've missed the low tide, then?" Severus confirmed.

Charlie nodded, but let Draco explain. "We've missed it by a few hours, but it won't fill the cave completely for another two hours or so."

"You're confident that we'll make it safely, Captain Malfoy?" Hermione asked, cutting off any conversation. He nodded shortly. "Fine. Evacuate Remus and Kingsley with you first, Charlie, and take Longbottom. You two are the strongest and will be able to help them best. Severus, Fleur and Ginny after that. I'll follow with Bill and Malfoy and Lavender."

"You should go with Fleur and Miss Weasley," Severus commented. "I'll go with Miss Brown in case they have need of more strength."

Hermione shook her head vehemently. "First in, first out. Even if not, Lavender needs a female present."

Knowing that she would not tolerate dissension at this point, Severus wisely closed his mouth.

"Good. Get Longbottom and the survivors and get out of here," Hermione finished. "We'll take down the tent."

Charlie disappeared into the tent, leaving Hermione, Malfoy and Snape in the cold waiting to take down the tent and disillusion those fleeing. He reemerged with Remus and Kingsley first, then Neville a moment later.

"Will Lavender be all right left alone?" whispered Hermione to Remus as she double checked his warming and impervious charms.

He sighed, looking over his shoulder as if to check to see if she was listening. "She has to be," Remus said, rubbing his hand over the week's worth of beard, golden but shot with silver.

Hermione hugged him close, which was strange to see, as she had already disillusioned him. "I'm so glad you're safe."

He held her tighter.

After they let go, she called out, "All right, men, look over here at me. Attention please. Stay together until the mouth of the cave system and when Captain Weasley says to disillusion, you do it, understand?"

Grunts of affirmation came back to her and she crossed her arms over her chest, choking back her feelings.

"Make sure you follow me and take the cave passage to our left. Do not for any reason venture to the passage on the right. We do not have that kind of time," Draco sternly demanded.

Hermione's mind was not there, though.

Not here. Not now.

What if they'd gotten there earlier? When they had found the memory in Nott's mind? Would Podmore still be alive?

Not here. Not now.

The rest of the party exited the tent in single file, Lavender and Ginny following at the rear. Ginny's brown eyes met Hermione's and she went to them, helping situate Lavender on the ground as the others took down the tent.

Tears slid down Lavender's cheeks without cessation, slowly making tracks down her face, one drop following the last in the path it had made.

"You'll be all right," Hermione reassured, putting her arm around her former roommate.

Where was Lavender? Where was the bubbly, ambitious, funny woman? Was she in there any more?

Lavender simply began to shake, her shoulders quaking under Hermione's hands.

Keeping up the steady flow of chatter, Hermione said, "You've just got to keep on, Lavender. You're doing so good."

She choked, saying, "_They_ never called me that. They called me- called me P-Penny."

"_What_?" Hermione gasped, "They didn't ever call you by your name?"

She shrugged in a false show of bravado. "Said I didn't deserve a name. I was a p-p. A p-penny whore."

Hermione held her closer, closing her eyes and letting the other woman's pain wash over the both of them. "Your name is Lavender Brown. You're a good woman."

Lavender laid her head on Hermione's breast, clutching her around the middle as she shook, purging her body of all her fears, anxieties, terrors and panic and disquietude.

After a prolix moment, Severus tenderly placed his hand on the back of Hermione's neck, jerking her from the woman in her lap. "The second group needs to leave, poppet."

Glaring convivially at his term of endearment, she mouthed, "Be safe."

He dipped his chin once, pressing his lips together and setting off with Fleur and Ginny. They nicitated(huh?) out of view as their charms went up. The wind whistled in their ears, whipping their hair and clothes around as they waited.

"Are you ready?" Bill asked Hermione quietly, stealing a look back at Lavender, curled up on the ground hugging herself for warmth.

"Malfoy, is everything set?" called Hermione. He said that it was and began the work of disillusioning himself and the others.

Hermione helped Lavender to her feet gently, holding onto her hand as one would a wounded bird. "We're going to have to escape through the caves, Lavender," she said, "Just keep holding on to me and we'll be safe soon."

Lavender didn't do anything, but kept her hold on Hermione's hand.

"Ready to move out, Commander," Draco's voice said.

"Over here then," ordered Hermione. "Draco, you take lead and hold onto Bill's hand. Bill, give me your other and I'll take care of Lavender in the rear."

After a few moments of fumbling, they were in formation and began to creep quietly away from the Death Eater camp, down a low valley and to a large rock formation. The light of their fire gave way to the oppressive dark of the night and soon they were stumbling along almost blindly in the shadows.

"Just a little further," Draco whispered, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. Hermione stiffened although she knew the Death Eaters wouldn't hear them.

Down, down they scaled, loose rocks slipping and making the going slow. Hermione went down hard, landing on her wounded shoulder. Gritting her teeth together and smothering her face in her sleeve, Hermione kept her scream of pain inside. It pounded as she got up gingerly, but they pressed on.

"Here," said Draco, pulling his wand and shimmering back into view. "I'll go first and then you follow."

"Thank you, Captain," Hermione said, waving her wand over Lavender and herself.

Carefully, he began to pick his way down and under the tall outcropping of shale. When he disappeared, Bill followed gingerly, picking through the rocks to the passage on the left.

"Let's go, Lavender," Hermione said under her breath. "How are your warming charms? Still holding?"

She nodded, her eyes staring at the cave warily. They joined hands once again and began their descent. Large, smooth boulders covered the sandy ground as they crawled downward, but they soon gave way to freezing waves, licking at their shoes, then covering their ankles, knees and thighs. Lavender's hand grasped tightly in hers, Hermione lit her wand, but the oppressive darkness of the cave was barely permeated. If she had thought to reach above her head, her fingers would be only two feet from the sharp spines on the ceiling of the cave. They gasped as a breaker caught them around the waists, pushing them back and onto their bums.

"Lavender, can you swim?" Hermione asked, spitting out a mouth full of sea water. Her hair clung to her face and over one eye.

She nodded.

Another wave broke over them, trying to push them back to the shore. "I'll be here with you the whole time," reassured Hermione, pulling her forward. "I'm going to apply a bubblehead charm, then."

The water was rising rapidly now, churning around their bodies and forcing them to tread in the freezing waves. Lavender began to panic, but Hermione's reassuring hands calmed her. "_Ebublio," _Hermione chanted, forming a quivering bubble around Lavender's head, allowing her to begin swimming for the mouth of the cave.

_Fuck!_

Hermione began to shiver, the water around her neck now. Why did she insist on being last? She could barely swim! Fuck!

The waves tickled her chin as she cast the bubble head charm on herself. It worked just in time, as the sea crested again, over her head. Lavender had managed to light her wand and Hermione followed her pale golden path through the dark.

After a few minutes, Hermione began to get the hang of swimming, or at least the stroke she was doing, which was a strange flutter of the legs and an extension of her arms ahead of her. Was that the entrance to the sea ahead? Please, please let it be the entrance.

It was! Lavender's light inched upward until it disappeared from sight. It had to be. And that was the white of the hull of the boat! Thank you, baby Jesus! Hermione rejoiced.

Suddenly, a huge surge hit Hermione in the chest knocking her backwards and deeper into the water. After smashing her face on the floor of the cave, a rush of freezing water entered Hermione's lungs, piercing them with a hundred sharp knives of pain.

Where was the bubble? Hermione put her fingers to her face, their wrinkled surfaces probing for the air. It wasn't there. Using all the strength left in her legs, she propelled herself upward, breaking the surface finally. The ceiling was bearing down on her head, her hands grasping for purchase on it.

"_Enbub-" _the incantation was cut off by another wave, pushing her down and back. She surfaced again, coughing, but immediately casting again, "_Enbublio!"_

This time it worked, allowing her to be still for a moment as the water rushed around her again, and she caught her breath before using her strange stroke to glide through the water and towards the boat.

As she broke the surface, gasping for air again, four hands descended over the edge of the boat, a pair taking each wrist and hauling upward.

Before she closed her eyes, Severus' concerned face swam before her. Hermione smiled and made to say something, but instead passed out cold.


	31. Chapter 31

Fortunately for Hermione, Ginny had gotten the brilliant idea to infuse a bubble head charm with a one hundred percent oxygen content. After only a few moments, her eyes opened again, staring upward at the sky.

"We're good?" she coughed, a bit of sea water dribbling down her chin.

Ginny forward on the balls of her feet and rapidly checked Hermione vitals. "You're all right, I think," she pronounced, furrowing her brow a bit.

"Everyone else is safe?" demanded Hermione, sitting up in a rush.

Severus' face swam into view, spinning for a moment until her head cleared. "Everyone is on the boat and safe."

"Get me a pepper up, yeah? she groaned, laying back on the cold deck.

She heard Severus snort. "You don't need anything except two paracetemols and a good night's sleep. We'll be able to portkey in just a few minutes."

"Malf!" Hermione called out irreverently.

A scratching noise on the deck. "I'll forgive your abhorrent shortening of my name," Draco drawled.

Hermione opened one eye and then was immediately sorry. This was like the world's worst hang over. Note to self: don't drown again any time soon.

"Tonks is not to interact with Remus under _any _circumstances- do you all understand me?" growled Hermione. "Ferret boy-"

"That's a little much!" cried Draco indignantly.

Ignoring him, she continued, "I want you to figure out how to fix the Lavemus situation."

"Lavi-" questioned Draco.

Ginny answered quickly, "She frequently combines names when under stress."

"I cannot tell you how much I detested being called Snarry as a reference to the fact that Potter and I were on assignment together," Severus mentioned, a shudder in his voice.

Countering with a hint of amusement, Ginny added, "When Kingsley and I were in Prague, we were 'Weaslebolt'. I thought it was funny."

"Still here," moaned Hermione. "Malferret, I don't give a shit how you fix it. Just fix it."

The headache that had only been crawling at the edge of Hermione's attention began to flare in full force.

"Up you go," murmured Snape, hooking his arms under Hermione's shoulders and helping her stand.

Opening her eyes again, this time more cautiously, she whispered, holding onto his hand, "Thanks."

"Any time," he quirked the edge of his mouth in a smile. "I want you to portkey with me, all right?"

Hermione nodded, then called out to the rest of the group, "I am quarantining all of the survivors of the ordeal on North Rona until further notice. It is possible that they have contracted a strange disease or something. I'm going to portkey through first with Major Snape and we're going to clear the way to the basement, where they will be kept. Understand?"

She didn't wait for them to answer, but turned back to Severus who had used his thumbnail to flick open his portkey locket. Pointing his wand at the pendant over his heart, he activated the link. Looking back at her troops, Hermione let Severus wrap his arm around her and jerk her through the air to America.

Again, the wind was knocked out of both Hermione and Severus as they landed on the frozen ground. The mid-afternoon light shone brightly in their eyes, temporarily blinding both. When they could see again, the first figure rocketing out of the back door was Tonks.

"Hermione!" she cried, nearly tripping down the stairs and wrapping her arms around her friend. "I was so scared when I got the call! Oh, thank God you're here! How is everyone?"

"Gimme a sec," moaned Hermione, rolling out of Tonk's grasp to rest her cheek on the frosty ground and try to coax her nausea to the background. When she had sufficiently recovered, she continued, "Sturgis didn't make it out, but everyone else will be coming through momentary."

"And before you ask, Remus is being quarantined with Miss Brown and Kingsley for an undetermined amount of time," Severus explained, gracefully getting himself off the ground and dusting off as if he had not just been in a battle dueling werewolves. "I would ask you to clear a path to their facility in the cellar."

Tonks nodded frightfully, her eyes going wide, but wordlessly she got up and went back inside, yelling orders as she went.

"Undetermined amount of time?" Hermione snorted, letting him help her up.

He shrugged, an unusually sloppy gesture for him, "I am not in fully use of my mental or physical capabilities at the moment. It is what I thought of first."

"It was fine," reassured Hermione, although he did not need her platitudes. They exchanged a meaning filled look and she walked up the steps on the deck to the house, checking to make sure the coast was cleared for their friends.

It was, and that was a good thing, because not moments after she turned back towards the back yard, the others snapped into view, stumbling down to the ground and hugging it for dear life.

Hermione nodded, making eye contact with Severus who said, "The way is cleared. Get them to the cellar."

"Where are we?" Lavender asked, squinting in the light.

"You're in America," explained Hermione, "at a safe house."

She seemed too overwhelmed to take it all it, and instead followed Ginny dumbly up the stairs and into the house. Hermione jogged on ahead, beating them through the kitchen and opening the door to the cellar. Flicking on the light, she skipped down the stairs and swung open the door to their quarantine room.

The low, windowless room was virtually transformed before her eyes. Instead of the bare concrete floors and studded walls, they had put down a thick carpet and finished the walls and colored them a soothing pale gold. Three beds were pushed into three corners and a love seat and two chairs were grouped in the center with a stack of books and magazines on the coffee table. Comfortable pants, shirts and dressing gowns were laid out on each bed, and slippers sat on the floor by the head. A small attached bathroom with a tiny shower stall, toilet and sink completed the quarantine space.

"Just a few more steps," Hermione heard Ginny say, "and you'll be in bed, Lav."

She whimpered, obviously crying, but said nothing.

Hermione pulled back the covers on the bed with the purple lounge clothes and prepared to help Lavender climb in. She started as they entered the room, Draco carrying Lavender bride style with Ginny walking along side holding the older girl's hand.

"This one," Hermione said, patting the covers. "Keep the others out in the lab, Draco, while Gin and I get her dressed, all right?"

Draco gently sat her down on the coverlet and nodded, exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

"Can you get undressed, Lavender?" Hermione asked, softly pushing the hair out of her face.

She looked fearful, as one would presume one would after four months naked and being tortured.

"You'll be all right," Ginny coaxed. "It's just girls in here. No men will come in while you're changing."

Seeming to quiet deep in her soul, Lavender nodded, sitting up a bit and pulling her shirt over her head. Mud, grit and grime covered her torso, smearing down and into her navel, giving it a blackened look. Hermione grimaced, "You should shower."

Averting her eyes, but not covering her exposed breasts, she said in a tiny voice, "Will you go with me?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, but she nodded. "Gin, can you get Parvati to transfigure me a bathing suit?"

Ginny nodded and left without a word, first silently going to the bathroom and turning on the hot water in the shower.

Nervously, Hermione helped Lavender to take her shoes off, noticing the state of her toenails- broken and infected, and her other clothes and to wrap herself in the plush dressing gown.

"I'm going to check on the shampoo and things," Hermione explained. "You'll be able to see me through the doorway. I'll be right back."

There was enough in the ways of toiletries and towels, but Hermione knew she would need scissors for Lavender's mess of hair. She returned to Lavender's side, pulling her close to her side and letting her rest her head on her shoulder.

A quiet knock later and Ginny was back, baring a black one piece bathing suit for Hermione, which she went into the bathroom to put on while Ginny sat with Lavender.

When Hermione emerged, dressed in the simple suit, she said, "Ginny, will you stay here to get Lavender when we're done in the shower? I would like to wash up as well."

"Sure," she replied, extending her arms to Lavender to haul her off the bed. "I'll ask the Professor to get you clean cloths."

"Thanks," said Hermione, guiding Lavender past the door into the bathroom. "I'll call for you when we're done in here."

Hermione closed the door, the steam from the tiny shower obscuring the mirror over the sink. "In we go," she said brightly, opening the door.

Lavender nodded and slowly loosened the belt at the waist of her dressing gown and let it fall off her shoulders into Hermione's waiting hands to hang on the back of the door. After that, Hermione got into the shower first, then held out her arms for Lavender. She grasped them and shakily stepped over the barrier at the edge. The warm water felt heavenly on her back and arms- months of being cold slowly melted away with the dirt that swirled down the drain. Using the provided soap a a soft flannel, Hermione washed Lavender's arms and back, careful not to inflame the raw, new scars on her body. She slumped limply against the wall, letting Hermione work the flannel on her body. They washed and conditioned her hair three times and the worst of it was out. They wouldn't have to cut it after all. Good.

"Do you want to wash your privates?" Hermione asked quietly over the calming pitter-patter of the water on the floor.

She nodded, accepting the soap and cloth from Hermione, who averted her eyes as she mechanically cleaned herself.

"Could you do a depilatory spell?" questioned Lavender, gesturing to her legs and armpits.

Hermione said that she could and saw that the tiny gesture had made Lavender feel about a hundred times more human.

"I'm going to call for Ginny, now," Hermione explained. "She'll come in and help you dry off and get dressed and in bed, all right?"

Lavender nodded and Hermione called out Ginny's name. She appeared in the doorway with a towel outstretched in her hands.

"No one is in the bedroom and it has been locked," said Ginny, wrapping Lavender up as she stepped out of the shower. "Hermione, I'm putting your clothes on the sink, all right?"

"Thanks, Gin," she said, stripping out of the bathing suit and rubbing the cloth vigorously at her fingernails to get rid of the blood. That was the worst part about war, about battles- the blood never seemed to want to come out from under your fingernails. As the dirt, grime and sea water trickled off of her body, she began to feel clean again- almost whole. Showers were cathartic, she thought, turning up the hot water to full capacity.

Sturgis had died because she hadn't acted fast enough. Severus might say otherwise, Ginny might say otherwise, but Sturgis' death was solely on her hands. A lump rose in her throat, choking at her until she let the tears she had held in fall.

He was dead because she didn't want to overtax her men. She didn't want to make a move before the new year. Now he was dead. Had she wanted to spend New Years' Eve with Severus and that's why she delayed the mission? No, that wasn't it. No need to feel bad about that.

They were having sex in a London back alley while Sturgis was dying.

There's nothing she could do now. Hermione sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and letting the water take away the rest of the tears. He was dead, but they were all alive.

They would have had a casualty if they hadn't had a break after the last mission. Sturgis knew that. He would have accepted that.

Would it have been better to leave them to die? Hermione thought of the forever-scarred Lavender, fragile Kingsley and broken Remus and oblivious Tonks.

No. Even Tonks would agree that she'd rather have Remus alive and with someone else than dead.

Oh, God. Remus was forced to _rape _Lavender. Forced to take pleasure in her body. How much did he hate himself now? He had taken pleasure in raping her, however horrifying. Flesh yielded to its compulsions.

Enough.

She turned the water off briskly before washing her freezing air from the rest of the room wrapped around Hermione, making her shiver and shake even after she had wrapped the large, fluffy towel around her shoulders. She used a simple drying spell on her hair, making the curls snap into place, six inches above the wet length. The clothes went on- bless Severus for bringing lounge wear- and she emerged.

"I want you to get some food before you go to sleep, all right, love?" Hermione said, stroking the hair off of Lavender's forehead. She nodded sleepily, but let Ginny help her sit up. "I'll get your Mum to bring down some broth. Won't do to have her belly get overfilled."

"Mum can be trusted with the situation and she'll really want to help," urged Ginny.

Hermione agreed and unlocked the door but turned back to inform, "I'm going to let the others in now."

"All right," she answered, turning back to Lavender.

Going out the door, she went to where Kingsley, Remus, Severus and Draco were sitting in the lab. "I want to get you two into bed," Hermione greeted. "And I'm going to get some food brought down for you. Don't eat too much; you'll just be ill if you do."

"We never had a chance to thank you, Miss Granger," Kingsley croaked, putting his fingers to his throat. "Its all right, just a little scratch in the throat."

"Quite all right, Kingsley," affirmed Hermione. "Its nothing I would not have done for any of my men."

Remus broke in quietly, "None the less, we are grateful for your assistance."

"Just do the same for me and we'll call it even, right-o?" Hermione smiled, but didn't let them rebut.

She found Molly in the sitting room with Andromeda and Narcissa drinking a calming cup of tea while chatting.

"Molly, could I speak to you for a moment?" requested Hermione, gesturing towards the kitchen.

Molly rose, placing her cup onto the matching flowered saucer on the table, "Of course, dear."

When they were alone, Hermione asked her favor, "There's been some difficult things happen to the survivors- things that until I clear them up, I can't let anyone interact with them. I'd like to ask you to help take care of them. They are badly dehydrated and near starvation. I think a good dose of coddling will do them a world of good."

"I'm going to go over here and make them a pot of my good, hearty beef broth right away then," Molly beamed, lighting the gas burner with the tip of her wand.

Hermione cautioned, though, "I need complete discretion. They're going through very difficult things right now and I can't ask just anyone to help."

Molly glared as if to say it didn't even need to be mentioned. "You might want to ask the quiet Patil girl to help."

Hermione pondered, "I think that would be good. The others that went on the rescue are in sore need of sleep, food and bathing. I'll go sit with them for a few hours."

A tear sprang to Molly's eyes and she spontaneously embraced Hermione, "Oh, my dear girl. You're taking care of everyone, but who is taking care you you?"

Gently extracting herself from Molly's grip, she insisted, "I've already had a bit of a shower with Lavender, and I'll be fine."

"Regardless, I'll make you a nice sandwich and bring it down when the broth is finished," Molly maintained.

Recognizing that she had lost, Hermione quickly pecked Molly on her cheek and started back down the stairs. Severus let her in when she knocked softly. Remus sat on the floor by Lavender's bed where she was curled on the edge with her free arm hanging down and over Remus' shoulder. He held her hand, stroking the top side of it with his thumb, his eyes closed against the sounds of her tears.

"Draco," Hermione whispered, sitting down on the floor beside him, "Remember that fix I told you to look for? I really need that, kay?"


	32. Chapter 32

Ouch. Moving was painful. Where am I?

Hermione rolled over, opening her eyes. Right, the floor of the cellar. She sat up, gingerly testing out the muscles of her neck and shoulders. Taking a peek upwards, she saw that Lavender was resting peacefully in her bed finally. Hermione took the blanket she was laying under and covered Lavender with it, tucking it around her spare body.

"_Tempus_," she whispered in the dark. 1:05 in the morning. Finally, she could go to her own bed.

Neville was asleep in his chair outside the door with his mouth hanging open and Hermione gave him a sharp poke in the ribs with the business end of her wand.

"Sorry, 'Mione," Neville shot upward, looked around with his wand at the ready. Spying Hermione, he yawned sheepishly, sitting up straighter.

Hermione took pity, "Its ok. I'll put on a pot of tea for you. I'm going to get some sleep."

"Thanks," replied Neville, getting up to pace the room.

After putting the kettle on, Hermione gratefully opened the door to her bedroom and quickly stripped out of her clothes.

Out of the dark, Severus mumbled sleepily, "Come to bed finally?"

Hermione started, "You scared the pants off of me. And, yes. Budge over."

Pushing Severus to the wall, Hermione scrambled under the covers, pulling them up to her chin. From behind her, Severus wrapped his strong arms around her chest, holding her tightly to him. Her bum was pulled against something very hot and very firm.

Severus began to kiss and suck at the back of Hermione's neck, working his way down, over her shoulders and pulling away slightly to tease at her shoulder blades.

"Oh, Severus," Hermione groaned, "Its past one in the morning."

He did not stop, but in response he let go of her with his dominant hand and began to slide it down her belly. "Sit back and relax, m'love."

When the tips of his fingers began to graze over her, the time was forgotten. He pressed himself firmly against her back, his erection nestled snugly in between her cheeks, and worked her in a slow, rhythmic dance until all she could do was arch back and grind. Hermione's breathing became labored as she followed the dips and highs of the building of her orgasm. When it burst over her, centering in the base of her scull and spreading down every inch of her inflamed body, her mind reeled.

Oh, there it is. Severus is making me come. God. Oh, God. Severus is making me come.

Hermione moaned deep in her throat, choking on the sensation that was flooding her. Please, God, don't ever let it stop.

And he kept moving, rubbing the same patient circles over her clit, dipping down occasionally into her center to pull back lubrication and continue the torture.

Oh, is he going to do it? Is he going to do it again. Please, please, please let him make me come again.

Every second was a prayer.

The second was even more intense than the first, shaking her deep and exploding outward. She bucked and pumped against his hand, riding on his fingers as the feeling twirled in its little ball, becoming more and more dense until it could not take any more and she flew apart, screaming, this time, and praising.

Every second was a prayer.

Coming down with Severus' arms around her, with his sodden fingers tracing her lips, his heated body moulding into hers. Perfection.

"Can I have you?" whispered Severus, undulating his hips, seeking her.

Hermione nodded, bending at her waist to allow penetration. He needed no prodding and slid into her with a blissful moan.

"Mine," he whispered, his breath harsh against the back of Hermione's ear. She pressed back eagerly, helping him to fill her completely. "All of you. Mine."

Hermione let her eyes fall shut, squeezing them against the onslaught of feeling- both from where they were joined and the soaring feeling blossoming in her chest. She liked to think it was the same for Severus.

Blissfully and mostly asleep, their coupling was soft, with raw edges, ragged against their tired, protesting muscles. Severus came, not wanting to evade sleep any longer, letting his body empty and relax against his love's back.

Seemingly only seconds after they drifted off, a sharp knock rounded on the door.

"Commander?" It was Draco.

Hermione groaned, rolling away from Severus, his penis sliding out of her. "What do you want, Captain Malfoy?" she called, sliding off of the bed and pulling on her dressing gown. She opened the door only a crack, sticking her head out. Standing next to Draco was a thin, dark haired man in doctor's garb. As her eyes rounded, she quickly closed the door behind her, sheltering Severus from the commotion. "You had best explain yourself, Captain, and fast!"

Draco smiled self importantly. "May I present Dr. Jesse Atwell."

Hermione stared, glancing at the doctor. "I don't think I understand. What is going on?"

"This is my fix," replied Draco. "He's a specialist in Post Traumatic Stress. Ernie found him at the Veteran's Hospital."

Heart racing, Hermione turned to Dr. Atwell, "I need to speak with my colleague for a moment, Dr. Atwell. Please try to make yourself at home and have a cup of coffee."

The flabbergasted doctor could only nod, but he made no move to drink any of his kidnapper's coffee. Hermione grabbed Draco forcefully by the upper arm and drug him bodily from the room.

"You told me to get help!" Draco whined, massaging his arm when she let go.

Hermione fumed, "You _kidnapped _someone! Are you fucking insane?"

A bit of color came to Draco's cheeks. "I didn't really think of it that way. I told him that a secret army needed his assistance and he could come willing or not. He chose willing."

"How did you get him?" sighed Hermione.

Putting his arm up to the wall to lean arrogantly, Draco extrapolated, "We found out when his shift ended at the hospital and got him in the parking lot."

"This had better work," Hermione growled, whirling around and stalking over to the doctor. "You're aware of what's going on?"

Jesse Atwell's young face screwed up in fear, then he whispered, "He told me that a secret army needed a post trauma doctor. And that if I didn't come willing he'd paralyze me."

Hermione let out a snort of laughter, "You can stay and help save the world, literally, or we can erase your memory and send you back."

"I'd rather not have you messing with my brain," he shuddered, beginning to relax a bit. "You do magic?"

"Captain Malfoy can give you a demonstration in the morning after he gives up his bed for you," Hermione glared pointedly, "And if I find you in Lieutenant Lovegood's bed, I will personally ship you to Siberia. Sleep on the floor."

"Aw, Granger," cried Malfoy, "my back is delicate."

Hermione ignored him, extending her hand to Dr. Atwell, "I know who you are, but as for my introduction, I've been remiss. I'm Commander Hermione Granger and I'm running this show. We'll have a meeting in the morning to brief you and the rest of the Order."

"Order?" he asked, a befuddled crease forming between his dark eyes.

Looking again to Draco and drawing her wand menacingly, she said, "Captain Malfoy, explain who we are and what is going on to Dr. Atwell. I am going back to sleep."

"Jesse is fine," mumbled Dr. Atwell with a hint of terror, staring at the wand in her hand.

Hermione spun on her heel, storming back into her bedroom and slamming the door. She fell into bed, her head aching with new information. Cursing Draco Malfoy, she fell into a fitful sleep once again.

An irritating buzzing came from the desk at exactly seven thirty the next morning. Hermione's head ached and she smacked randomly at the noise. Severus, who was sitting at the desk calmly making notes from a large hardcover book, glared at her rough treatment of his wand and turned off the alarm.

"Coffee and pain potion right next to you," he said, barely looking up.

She took them gratefully. "What are you doing?"

"Researching firearms," replied Severus. "They're quite fascinating."

Hermione rolled over, pressing her face into the pillow as the pain potion ran its course. "Did you hear what Malfoy pulled last night?"

"Kidnapping," he mused, adjusting the thin reading glasses perched on his nose. "Interesting fix."

"I'm so mad I could kill him," Hermione groused, getting out from under the covers and stalking naked to her closet and picking out a set of clothes. "Where did he get the idea to _kidnap_ someone?"

Severus looked up, watching her obviously, and said, "I wouldn't be too hard on him. It is easily remedied should things go pear shaped."

"He's on magic-less bathroom duty for the next six months," she growled. "Did he also inform you of the emergency meeting I've called for this morning?"

"Mione?" Tonks called from the other side of the door, "I need to see you."

Hermione stamped her feet childishly and balled her fists for a few seconds and then, in a very restrained voice, she called for her to come on in."

The metamorphamagus had not slept the night before- that much was evident. Her hair was a dull brown and lank. "What's going on?" she was direct.

"Are you going to let me get a cup of coffee first?" Hermione asked, pinching her nose.

Tonks shook her head. "I've waited all night."

"Should I go?" asked Severus quietly, closing his book.

Hermione shook her head, then turned to Tonks. "Sit down."

Nervously, she did, tucking her bare feet under her as she sat on the bed. Hermione joined her and Severus angled his chair towards the two women. "Is it that bad? He's not badly hurt, is he?"

"Physically, he is fine," Hermione admitted. "Mentally, some very, very difficult things happened during his captivity."

Tonks looked both relieved and even more at attention.

"As we were liberating them," added Severus, "there were several things in the captive's minds that I saw instantly. Remus' shields were obliterated, mostly because of exhaustion and malnourishment. You saw in Nott's memory that he was forced to... assault Miss Brown."

Tonks gasped, her thin hand shooting out to grasp Hermione's. Hermione, scooted closer to her friend, putting her arms around her and motioned for Severus to continue.

"Unfortunately, Remus was forced to do the same," he finished quietly.

"Unfortunately?" Tonks yelled, struggling to break free of Hermione's strong grasp. "My husband raped Brown?"

"Tonks!" Hermione shouted, "Listen to Severus. He was _forced _to do it."

Dissolving into nearly hysterical tears, Tonks fought more half-heartedly at Hermione's arms, but she only held her friend closer. Feverishly, she jerked and wailed, but after several long moments, she quieted.

"I'm sorry, Tonks," Severus cautioned, "but I'm afraid there's more."

She nodded limply, not looking over at him and instead stared at the door, Hermione's arms falling uselessly to her sides.

"Lavender doesn't blame him," Hermione explained. "I know that there are two ways the victims, and there were two victims in this case, deal with things like this. They will either never be able to look the other in the eye, or it will cement them together with an unnaturally tight bond."

"No," whimpered Tonks, knowing what was to come next.

Severus cleared his throat and Hermione thought for a second she saw his eyes go glassy with tears, but the next second it was gone and the assumption was that she was mistaken.

"Miss Brown and Lupin seem to have taken refuge in each other. I by no means think them to be in love or even sexually active," coughed Severus with a tinge of embarassment, "but the bond is something to keep in mind."

Tonks nodded soberly. "D'you think he's going to leave me?"

"I think that his recovery from the ordeal on North Rona will take precedence over any other emotional conflict," Severus hedged. "Other than that, I can say with as much certainty as I can tell you what the Dark Lord's favorite color is."

She seemed to quiet, leaning into Hermione's shoulder meekly.

"Stay here, Tonks," Hermione offered. "I'm excusing you from the meeting. Try to get more sleep."

Shaking her head adamantly, Tonks replied, "What kind of message would that send to the others? Your Lieutenant Colonel lays down and tries to sleep when things are hard?"

Her eyes full of reverence, Hermione choked, "Very good. Get dressed, then. The meeting is in half an hour. I'm going to check on the survivors. Is there anything you would like me to tell Remus?"

Tears filled Tonks' eyes again, but she spoke without so much as a waver in her voice. "Tell him that I'm with him."

Hermione smiled. "Go on," she swatted her out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Hermione dropped her smile and collapsed back against the pillows.

"That went well," Severus commented, placing his reading glasses back on his nose and burying it back in the firearm book.

Hermione's mouth dropped wide. "You're kidding, right?"

"She could have punched one of us, then stormed downstairs and poor Longbottom wouldn't know what hit him," Severus extrapolated.

"Neville was relieved at five by Fleur, and she's one badass bitch," Hermione retorted, braiding her hair rapidly, the line wavering down her head and then wildly veering off towards her left cheek. "I suppose you're right."

Severus snorted, "Come here, silly girl. Your hair is a fright. Undo it."

She complied, freeing her curls again and handing Severus her brush handle first. "Do your worst."

Rewarding Hermione with one of his elusive crooked smiles, Severus securely held one hank of hair and at the ends began working the snares out with efficient methodical motions. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his hands soothing her scalp if he pulled and simply the comfortable rhythm of the brushing. Putting the brush aside, he started braiding at the crown of her head, making sure the strands were even and anchored sturdily.

"You're good at this," Hermione complimented, turning to look in the mirror over her desk when he had finished. "Where did you learn?"

"Lily taught me when we were children," declared Severus. "I hadn't done it in years, but I am pleased with the resiliency of my muscle memory."

Hermione impetuously probed, "Were you in love with her?"

"I knew you would eventually ask that," he sighed. "Unfortunately, as I'm sorry to disappoint your romantic notions, I was never in love with Lily Potter."

She was instantly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"No need," he waved off. "I do not intend to keep things from you, my girl."

A warm glow permeated Hermione's thoughts and on impulse she leaned down and snogged him good and proper.

"I've got to go check on the survivors," she moaned reluctantly as she disentangled herself from his lap. "I'll see you in the meeting."

At the bottom of the stairs, she greeted, "Morning Fleur. Had coffee?"

The Frenchwoman let out an epically put upon sigh, but gestured to an empty mug under her chair. "Neville brought me some when I took over, but zat was so long ago."

"Go on up and have some breakfast," Hermione urged. "I'll take it from here until the meeting at eight thirty."

After Fleur had trudged up the stairs, Hermione let down the wards over the door and walked in quietly, hoping not to disturb them if they were asleep. The room was almost oppressively dark, except for a wide swath of light cutting across the floor from the bathroom where Kingsley was taking a shower. A diagnostic spell confirmed that he was doing fine. Now what about Lavender and Remus...

Hermione turned towards Lavender's bed, but it was oddly empty. Oh, God. Her heart sunk as she turned slowly to face Remus' bed in the darkest corner of the room.

The bathroom illuminated a soft sliver of Remus' side and arm as they cradled Lavender's head between them, gently rocking back and forth. They seemed to be whispering to each other and Hermione was grateful for the noise of the shower. Using his free right hand, Remus darted down to clasp Lavender's creamy thigh and pull it high, increasing his penetration.

She was riveted by the tender scene in front of her- they were slow and patient with each other, not necessarily happy or smiling, but serene.

As quickly as Hermione entered the room, she left it even faster. 


	33. Chapter 33

Strangely, no one was grumbling when Hermione called the meeting to order at precisely eight thirty in the morning of the tenth of January.

"Firstly," she began, looking out over the sea of faces, "I would like to take a moment of silence for our friend, Sturgis Podmore."

Many closed their eyes, some leaned against their closest friend or sibling Hermione stood straight, her arms behind her back, their rock, their column. Although the storm raged around them, Hermione was firm, their Colossus of Rhodes, the world on her back as Atlas. If she cried, all would be lost.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice carrying to every person in the room with little effort. "We're also grateful for the safe return of our other survivors, Lavender, Remus and Kingsley."

Hermione's head swam in her exhaustion, but she did not waver.

"Right, then, first order. Captain Malfoy has secured a post traumatic stress therapist from the local Veteran's Hospital. For that stunt, he is on bathroom cleaning duty- all of them, by hand, for the next three weeks."

Malfoy groaned but knew better than to question his commanding officer.

"I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Jesse Atwell," continued Hermione, nodding to Draco, who left the room for the kitchen and momentarily returned with Dr. Atwell. In the morning light, Hermione could see that he was actually quite attractive in a rugged sort of way, with tousled dark hair and large, square hands.

"Well, this was quite a surprise," Dr. Atwell laughed, running his hand through his hair. "One second I'm going to my car and the next I've been abducted by an albino fellow that says he needs me to help him to save the world with magic."

Most of the room erupted in laughter, but a few held back- namely Tonks.

"Dr. Atwell has been kind enough to agree to stay with us and help the survivors cope with the events on North Rona," explained Malfoy.

"Post Traumatic Stress, like what your survivors of the North Rona events are dealing with, is a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that results in psychological trauma," discribed Dr. Atwell. "This event may involve the threat of death to oneself or to someone else, or to one's own or someone else's physical, sexual, or psychological integrity, overwhelming the individual's ability to cope."

"How will you be helping us?" Tonks asked quietly from her place on the floor by Ginny's feet.

Dr. Atwell's eyes lit up in recognition; he must have been briefed on Tonks. "I'll be doing some rather intensive interpersonal psychotherapy with you and your husband. Lavender and Kingsley will be receiving therapy as well, but as their situations don't come with a spouse, it will be different."

"I'm sure that Dr. Atwell would be willing to talk to any one of you that is experiencing negative side effects from any of the combat we have engaged in," Hermione offered, specifically looking towards Ginny and Ron.

"And even if you weren't at the battle site, there are still very serious ramifications, mentally, on the rest of the unit," he supplied, gracefully deferring to Hermione.

"Thank you, Doctor," demurred Hermione. "I'd like to move on to our second order of business. Dr. Atwell, you are welcome to stay."

He inclined his head and took an empty seat next to the twins, surprisingly at home.

Threading her fingers together in front of her body, Hermione said, "In the next few days, I will have decided who will be working with the firearms in the confrontation with Riddle. Those people will be working with Lieutenant Colonel Weasley at the shooting range to perfect your skills. Lieutenant Colonel Weasley will be assessing your performance and your mastery of the weapon and reporting back to me, where I will cut people from the team as I see fit. There are to be no questions asked- I do not have time for it. Lieutenant Colonel? Anything you'd like to add?"

Ron stood up and came to stand next to Hermione, "I've looked into classes that first timers can take- concealed carrying classes, they're called, that will teach you about how to work them. I plan on signing the firearm team up for one as soon as possible, and then we'll be taking a trip, hopefully, further north to where there are some concealable woods and do some intensive practice."

"What criteria are being looked at for the firearm team?" asked Dean Thomas thoughtfully.

Hermione fielded it, "A multitude of attributes. I promise to try to put together the best team I can. If you are not put on that team, it is likely because you are needed elsewhere. I'll use Captain Ginny Weasley as a perfect example- she would be quite useful as a medic, but her magical duelling is top notch."

Ginny smiled a touch at being singled out, but Hermione could tell where she would really want to be: on the front line, avenging Harry.

"What if we don't want to be on the firearm team?" Parvati questioned nervously.

Hermione quirked the corner of her mouth in a smile, "Then you will not be on it. The last thing that I need is someone on the team who is truly afraid of firearms. I don't blame you. They're fucking scary."

Scattered laughter at Hermione's foul language, even from Molly.

"I will be announcing the team at a meeting soon. Next order: two days ago while I was on my sighting trip in London, I was given a letter of support from the Magical Governement of Spain, who previously denied our pleas for help. Jimanez was killed on the twenty seventh of December and the interim leader has expressed interest," Hermione continued. "Effective immediately, I need these people to prepare for a January fifth departure. Captain Malfoy is leading the group, with Lieutenant Longbottom, Corporal Jordan and Private Bell."

"Objective?" Captain Malfoy affirmed.

"I want you to secure a safe house in the Spanish Magical Capitol, Granada," Hermione revealed. "That is your first objective. Secondly, you are to get any operatives they are willing to give us and make sure they are up to snuff on their combat training. As well, I will be sending a team with the same objectives to the French Government in Paris. I want this team ready for a January sixth departure. Headed by Major Snape, assisted by Lieutenant Major Bill Weasley and Sergeant Major Delacoeur. I am still looking for a fourth member of this party, specifically one who speaks fluent French, as the other team members do."

Both Andromeda and Narcissa raised their hands.

Taking a cue from her sister, Andromeda remarked, "The three of us learned French from our mother as children. Either Narcissa or I would be willing."

"I need you here, Narcissa, for medical duties. Warrant Officer Tonks will be joining the French team. Thank you," Hermione smiled. "I'll let you take a break, but when we get back we're talking horcruxes!"

As soon as the chatter began, Ginny got up and touched Hermione's arm for her attention, "Ah, 'Mione, we had to schedule you to have two sightings close together because of other things going on. Are you going to want to go this afternoon?"

Hermione groaned, "I forgot about it. I'll ask around and see if anyone will cover for me."

"All right," confirmed Ginny. "Just let me know who is going to come."

Swinging through the kitchen for a steaming cup of tea, Hermione opened the door to her bedroom and began rifling through the papers on her desk. Where was it? Ah, there it was. She sipped at her tea, her eyes scanning the documents. They needed to get back to Conwy... but would Voldie keep two horcruxes there- Nagini _and _the diadem? Note to self: ask Severus and Draco. When can I get Lucius and Nott here again?

"May I enter the sanctum?" asked Severus wryly from the door.

Hermione turned her head and gave him a brilliant smile. "What's up, Major?"

"I'm running low on hellebore, ashwinder egg, sopophorus beans, wormwood and asphodel," he mentioned. "Bill has already agreed to accompany me to the apothecary in Diagon Alley, if you would give us leave to go this afternoon."

"Making the draught of living death, are you?" she questioned, shaking her notes into a cohesive sheaf.

"You would think that," mentioned Severus, sitting on her bed familiarly. "But the sopophorus, asphodel and hellebore all go into an anti-depressant potion for the survivors and Nymphadora. The ashwinder is a standard ingredient and I plan on making a healthy amount of absinthe with the wormwood."

"I've never had absinthe," Hermione commented idly. "And, as to you going to Diagon, I would ask you to take my place with Ginny on the sighting I was scheduled for later this morning, unless Bill needs something as well."

"He and Fleur have decided to put her diamond ring in their vault. She almost lost it on Rona," he replied. "I can put it in for them, though, at Gringott's."

"All right. You go with Gins to the apothecary and to Gringott's. Make sure to check at the Leakey for any more letters," instructed Hermione. "She was going to leave after the meeting was out, so go tell her you'll be taking my place, please."

Seeing that Hermione was quite busy with her own thoughts, Severus smiled without her seeing and left in search of Miss Weasley.

As Hermione went back to the sitting room to continue the meeting, she stopped in the dining room and detached the wall-sized dry erase board and levitated it behind her like an awkwardly inanimate puppy on a leash.

"Let me just fix this board and we'll start again," Hermione announced, waving her wand to stick a portion of the board to the mantle at shoulder height. "Right, then. Let's get started. Severus, Draco, could you come up and help me form a list of where the diadem could be hidden."

Taking a marker from Hermione, Draco wrote in large print, "Where the hell is it?", strangely juxtaposed in his almost Edwardian perfect script.

"Very nice, Mr. Malfoy," snarked Severus.

Hermione rolled her eyes good naturedly. "Start out with Conwy Castle. Unfortunately, we have not been able to actually search the area. After that, I'm up for suggestions."

"Has the orphanage he grew up in been searched?" asked Charlie, his chin on his fist.

Severus answered, "It was razed twenty years ago to make way for a car park complex."

"How thoroughly have we searched Hogwart's?" MacMillian questioned.

Draco shook his head, "How thoroughly do you think Hogwart's _could _be searched?"

Ginny posed, "What about the Room of Requirement?"

"Now we're on the right track," Hermione declared, nodding to Draco, who wrote that under Conwy Castle.

"An Albanian peasant was killed to make this one, correct?" Molly extrapolated. "Wouldn't it be logical if he has it hidden in that area?'

"It's a big place if you're just looking for a tiara," mused Hermione as Draco wrote it down. "Maybe if we can figure out _who _the peasant was. Specialist MacMillian, you know your next job."

"If I might," Dr. Atwell began. The whole room swirled their heads to look befuddledly at the muggle therapist. "I know it's not my place, and I don't have a damned clue why you're looking for a crown, but I would think he would put it in the place that everyone puts their jewelry- the bank."

A deafening silence permeated the room and Atwell began to color. His mouth opened, ready to issue an apology.

"Great job, mate," Draco pronounced, scribbling Gringott's Bank.

Hermione cleared her throat, "I agree, Dr. Atwell. We always need a fresh perspective to keep us from over thinking the situation."

Severus took the clue to continue and he supplied, "Let's make a subcategory with possible vaults the diadem could be in. I believe there is a Gaunt Family vault that has sat empty for years, as well as his personal vault that he set up when he was a child."

"I'd check Bellatrix's vault," Ron mentioned. "And Pettigrew's."

Andromeda sighed, "As Bella's oldest living relative, I received the content of her vault. I do not believe there was a diadem, though. It is open for searching, though."

"It could be in any vault in the bank," Arthur commented. "It would be nearly impossible for us to find it."

"Unless you have an inside contact," smirked Hermione. "I was going to wait till I could make this an order of business after we talked about horcruxes, but I can do it now. Colmey, the operating director of Gringott's, has pledged his personal support and promised that the Death Eaters had not and would not take the bank."

"Excellent!" cried Fred, slapping the doctor on the back. He lurched forward unexpectedly, but smiled.

"He also supplied us with this," Hermione continued, pulling the worn diary off of the mantle. "We were unable to open this, and the theory was that only a Ravenclaw could do it- as it is Rowena's own diary."

"Colmey asserted that we might be able to get a better insight on what the diadem looked like and were it could have been hidden," reasoned Severus. "Miss Lovegood, Miss Patil, I will entrust this to you."

Padma was the closest and she took the diary from Hermione and eagerly pulled at the strap holding it closed. It would not budge. "Sorry, Commander," Padma slumped and handed it off to Luna.

Serenely, Luna slid her fingers under the binding and pulled. In a very rare fit of pique, she tugged at it vindictively. "It doesn't like me either," she commented.

Draco made to take it from his girl, but as soon as it was in his hand, it slipped out, falling to the carpet, pages splaying open.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, falling to her knees to observe the pages. It snapped shut, emanating a sound quite like a raspberry.

Draco knelt next to it and gingerly picked it up, tentatively stroking his fingertips across the cover. "Is it me you want?" he whispered, gently tugging on the closing strap. It slid out with ease and he turned, bewildered, to his commander. "I don't know what's going on."

"Open it," Hermione urged from her place tailor style on the carpet near him. Glancing at her, he opened the cover, reading the script.

"It's in Welsh," he whined, taking up the dry erase marker and writing _dyma 'r ddyddiadur chan Rowena Ravenclaw. _"Are you fucking _serious_?"

"It says-" began Fred, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

George continued, "This is the diary of Rowena-"

They finished in tandem, "Ravenclaw. Language Taffy."

"Excuse me?" Hermione bleated.

Molly called out, "Where did you learn _Welsh_?"

"Language Taffy," Fred explained.

"Honestly, woman," scoffed George, "Weren't you listening? We ate Welsh Language Taffy and now we can speak it."

"Why didn't you say something when I was asking for French speakers?" sighed Hermione.

George shrugged, "We don't have French Taffy."

"Well, what kind of taffy do you have?" she huffed.

"Welsh," Fred admitted. "There was this lovely little bit of all right that worked down the alley-"

"Fred!" admonished Molly. He looked ready to run.

George interjected, waggling his eyebrows, "She was Welsh."

"Noted," remarked Severus dryly. "Give Captain Malfoy some of the toffee."

"I don't know if I want to speak Welsh," Draco whined, "I've already got two languages rattling round in my brains."

Hermione exploded, "Eat the god forsaken taffy, Malf, or you'll be on much more than bathroom duty!"

Draco colored, but did not say anything about the abuse of his name or the mention of punishment.

"Er," Fred offered quietly, edging out of the room, "I'll just be getting upstairs to retrieve them."

"I'll give you a thousand bucks for a Spanish Taffy," whispered Dr. Atwell. George beamed, high fiving him.

"Excellent!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.


	34. Chapter 34

Wow, this chapter and the next have been a bloody whirlwind of events! I hope I'm keeping everything straight and easy to follow!

Thanks, Beta-love!

Extra content at thebuescherproject.

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In the dining room, with the mid-morning light stretching long across the table, Nymphadora Tonks, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger poured over the documents spread around them.

"I want Charlie," Ron requested, pulling his brother's file towards his chest.

Hermione shook her head. "Riddle has been known to employ dark creatures. I need him to be working on research with the intelligence that I hopefully will be getting from Nott and Malfoy."

Slightly disgruntled, Ron slid the file to her. "Fine, but I get Malfoy Jr."

"Fine," Hermione granted. "What do we think about Lovegood."

Tonks snorted, "She's either going to be a prodigy or a total flop. I say we should let her go to the range and we'll find out soon enough."

"My father is going to want to be armed," Ron warned. "Anything muggle..."

Hermione glanced down at the sheet in front of her. "Take him, but don't be afraid to cut."

"Ginny's a fighter, correct?" Tonks questioned.

Sighing, Hermione replied, "I know she wants to be, but other than Narcissa, who can we rely upon to patch up the wounded?"

"I can talk to Padma and see if she's willing to be taught," offered Ron casually.

Hermione smiled, "Want your girlfriend out of the line of fire?"

"I do," he replied with total seriousness. "And if we make it past this, she's going to be my wife."

Shell-shocked, Hermione's jaw dropped and her hand poised ready over her paper but did not mark. She cleared her throat. "Patil on medic crew."

After a strange bit of silence in which Tonks looked at the floor, Hermione stared at Ron, and Ron turned beet red, Dr. Atwell poked his head into the dining room.

"Sorry to disturb, but Commander, could I have you in the basement, please?" he asked, his manner not giving anything away.

Hermione nodded. "Divvy up the rest and I'll approve them when I'm done."

Tonks and Ron said that they would, and Hermione followed the doctor (dressed in some of Malfoy's spare clothes, which were Severus' spare clothes) through the kitchen and down into the cellar.

He hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the knob, then he dropped it, turning to square himself with Hermione. "Listen, I know you know these people better than I ever could. I think I need to be completely honest."

"Go on," Hermione nodded, waving silencing spells around their perimeter.

Dr. Atwell cleared his throat, "Lavender is badly damaged. If this war is coming to a head within the next six months like Draco told me it would, it would be best to get her out and to an institution."

"Is it really that bad?" Hermione whispered, chewing her lip pensively.

Nodding, he continued. "She's experiencing flashbacks with a high degree of occurrence and is displaying most or all of the conventional Post Traumatic markers."

"What about Remus?"

"With some anti-depressant medication and therapy, he should be recovered, but you must watch him very closely," explained Dr. Atwell.

"And his continued infatuation with Lavender Brown?" Hermione sneered.

Dr. Atwell crossed his arms over his chest, "It is a very natural response to the torture they suffered. It is typical for two survivors to reach to each other."

"She's historically highly vindictive and manipulative, does that factor into your assessment?"

"Lavender is clinging to the only pillar of stability she possesses," Atwell informed.

Hermione considered, "Unfortunately that pillar is going to have to be taken from her, as she's a hazard to my unit and the object of her affection is needed."

"I believe that Lavender relies on Remus to a serious degree. To a lesser extent, Remus looks to her for validation that the events that occurred are forgiven- namely, his rape of her."

"Regardless, Lavender will be sent away and Remus will get his arse together. What about Kingsley?" pressed Hermione.

Smiling for the first time, Dr. Atwell concluded, "He's made of tough stuff, that Kingsley. He informed me that he's been involved in law enforcement for the past ten years and that one weeks' captivity was something they trained him on- in a practical sense."

"They keep people in cages for a week at the MLE?" Hermione gasped, her hand over her heart.

Dr. Atwell shook his head, "Apparently, he was kept in a completely dark room with complete sensory deprivation for _two _weeks as part of his training."

"Holy fuck," Hermione goggled. "I had no idea."

He laughed, "So, I would recommend Kingsley be put on an anti-depressant for a few months and then weaned off. But other than that, I'd pronounce him fit for combat in the next few weeks."

"Thank you, Doctor. You have been invaluable," Hermione thanked. "Might I see my troops now?"

Dr. Atwell moved aside to open the door for her, "You may. Try not to agitate them too much, would you?"

Smirking, Hermione slipped through the door to where the three survivors were gathered around the coffee table, Kingsley and Lupin playing chess, Lavender painting her toe nails a vivid blue at Remus' feet. "Kingsley, could I have you for a moment? In the next room?"

He smiled, rising to his feet lithely and extending his hand to Remus, "You were beating me very badly."

They went back through the door, and Hermione gestured for Kingsley to sit in the kitchen chair by the door while she plopped down on the steps. "Dr. Atwell has given you the clear to come back to every day life. So you think that you are ready to be back in the fray?"

Kingsley nodded solemnly, "It will take much more than a few werewolves to keep me away, Commander."

After a few long moments passed, after which, Hermione returned Kingsley's nod slowly. "I expect that should you have any adverse reactions that you will inform me and then consult with Dr. Atwell." Embracing Kingsley tightly, Hermione buried her face in his borrowed shirt. "I'm terribly pleased you're all right."

Smiling brilliantly, flashing a row of white, even teeth, Kingsley replied, "As I've said, it takes much more to keep me away."

"Well, try to make sure it doesn't happen again," Hermione sniffed, holding the taller man at arm's length. "Go find Neville and ask him to drive you and Lupin to a store and get some clothes. He'll have the Gringott's card. I'll be done with Lupin soon and you can go."

With a pat to Hermione's shoulder which nearly collapsed her with his strength, Kingsley made his way up the stairs, turning back to smile radiantly at Hermione.

Hoping that the next conversation would go just as well, but knowing that it wouldn't, Hermione steeled her nerves, put on her Commander hat and got ready to verbally eviscerate her soldiers.

She opened the door and asked them to give her their attention before sitting down in the third arm chair and folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"First and foremost, I must ask you to remember," Hermione began quietly, looking them both in the eye in turns, "that I am your commander. If you lie to me, I will know."

Remus opened his mouth and gaped, but could not speak.

"And if you try to tell me that you're not _fucking _her, I will end you. Understand?" Hermione seethed, her voice low and cutting.

He closed his mouth, exchanging a look with Lavender before swallowing his words and staying quiet.

"Thank you," continued Hermione. "These are your orders: cease and desist all physical contact. You are to meet multiple times a day with Dr. Atwell for Post Traumatic Stress Counseling. You are going to be separated."

Lavender scoffed, looking at her former roommate and not her commander, "You can't tell us what to do with our personal lives."

Remus looked away, his body language telling Hermione everything she needed to know. Her voice became low and furious, "You want to _fucking bet_?" Standing, she towered over the seated Lavender, her back to Remus, "As your commanding officer, I can tell you when to eat, when to sleep and when to take a shite, do you understand me?"

Defiantly looking into Hermione's dark eyes Lavender shot back, "You're nothing but a know it all, ponced up little bitch playing leader, you know that?"

Without standing, Hermione directed to Remus quietly, "I suggest that you go get Dr. Atwell. Now."

Remus scrambled for the door, "I'll be right back."

"I'm not done with you, Lupin, so you damn well better be," Hermione's gaze did not leave Lavender's for a single second. She continued, "I hope you know what I can do to you, Brown."

She did not reply.

"I understand what you went through was difficult and awful and trying. I get that. But what I do not get is your dogged refusal to _stand down_."

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Lavender replied, "What does it matter that we're having sex?"

"It matters when his _wife _is my second in command. You mess with Nymphadora Tonks, you mess with me," seethed Hermione, sitting back down. "So what I'm going to do with you is _very _simple. Dr. Atwell is going to take you with him, back to the hospital, and you will be committed for the duration of this war."

"You can't-"

"Oh, I promise you, Brown, I can."

For the first time, Lavender seemed to loose some of her bravado and begin to visibly shake in her seat.

"At the end of the war, you will receive a wand. Until that time," explained Hermione calmly, taking the wand she had given to Lavender only days previously from beside her on the coffee table and slipped it into her pocket, "you are a muggle. If you talk to _anyone _about _anything _magical, I will personally see to your punishment."

The door opened, sliding over the thick carpet. Hermione did not look up.

"Dr. Atwell, I appreciate everything that you are doing for us," the commander said, "She is ready for transport."

"No!" cried Lavender, looking around frantically

Hermione returned, "I can bind you if you like."

"I've just been a hostage! Please!" Lavender begged, clawing at the arm of her chair. "I'm emotionally damaged!"

"I believe that," replied Hermione calmly, "the events that you suffered on North Rona were catastrophic and life-changing and debilitating. What they did not do was make you into an opportunist, and violate the unspoken trust between troops and shattering the life of my Colonel. You are sleeping with a married man- even in the most desperate situations, you know better. Once you're safe, you are just idiotic. I believe I've made it perfectly clear that you are sworn to secrecy on the topic of your little love affair with Lupin. If this gets out, you'll have it far, far worse than Marietta Edgecomb."

"What are you going to do with him?"

Hermione smiled, "As a soldier with battle and diplomatic experience, he will be treated here and will be reintegrated back into the unit. But make no mistake, Brown, he will have severe repercussions. Dr. Atwell?"

"Come on," he whispered, putting his arms around Lavender and gently pulling her up with him. "Are you hungry? We can get something to eat on the way. Have you ever had a Big Mac?"

As they left, Hermione slumped against one of the three queen sized beds and closed her eyes. Remus was next. Fuck.

He knocked on the open door, "You wanted to see me, Commander?" he asked respectfully.

"I see you're going to make this easy on me. I thank you," Hermione replied, opening her eyes and standing up. "You have been sworn to secrecy. You are not to tell _anyone _about what happened between you and Brown after you arrived here. Your wife has been informed that you were forced to violate Brown on North Rona and that is all she will know until the conclusion of this war. What you did on Rona was an acceptable part of this war and I understand, Lupin. I do. But a continuation of that affair once you were transported to safety was a severe breach of the laws of trust between soldiers. You have a wife- you are a husband and you'd damn well better start acting like it. If not, I have no choice but to render you useless for the duration of the combat. I hope I have been clear."

Lupin nodded, his face pale and devoid of emotion.

"You will be staying here, under observation. You will be given the rank of Fourth Lieutenant," she droned. "And if you step a single toe out of line again, so help me god, you'll be on the business end of a castration hex."

Nodding, Lupin turned a very unbecoming shade of chartreuse and gulped painfully.

"Report to Lieutenant Longbottom immediately. He will be taking you and Captain Shacklebolt to procure some clothing," instructed Hermione. "Longbottom is your commanding officer."

Knowing that there was nothing more to say, she simply turned and walked out the door, up the stairs and to the kitchen where she poured herself a liberal dose of whiskey into a tea cup and downed it before taking a long drink of water from the faucet.

"Very polite, Granger," Malfoy drawled from the counter.

Hermione started, "Jesus, Captain. Didn't see you there."

"I'm hurt," he mocked. "I'm sure you want to see what I have come up with."

She brightened, "Yes!"

"Well, there isn't anything. Yet," he wheedled. "But I'm sure I would work better in an environment where there are not so many distractions. Like, say, in your private study."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "If you wanted to get into my bed, Captain, you just had to ask."

He made a face.

"Fine," she relented. "Don't touch anything with your gross pureblood hands, though."

Thanking her, Malfoy gathered up his materials and strode into her room like he owned it, closing the door with a snap.

Hermione shook her head. Oh, God, I need a nap. No, no. Firearm lists from Ron. Retrieve them. Good, they finished. Molly on the firearm team? Really?

She leafed through the papers as she walked into her room, toeing closed the door. Slashing and scribbling on the lists, they worked together for the better part of three hours, Hermione alternating, after finishing the master list, between dozing and reading a trashy novel and questioning Draco on his progress.

They sat in near silence, the quiet stretching between them like sagging power lines over a great distance. Draco sat on the floor, the diary open in front of him, his only sound being the rustle of the turning pages. Hermione reclined on her bed, idly watching him scan the indecipherable words.

"Have you-" Hermione questioned tentatively.

Draco shook his head. "Not yet."

"Do you-"

"I'll tell you when I know," a touch of irritation crept into Draco's voice. Hermione had to hand it to him: his patience was immense.

The clock hands moved another two hours, from two to four in the afternoon before a genuine smile broke across Malfoy's face.

"What is it?" cried Hermione, sliding off the bed and to the floor, her knees scraping roughly on the carpet.

Malfoy kept nodding, reaching blindly up to Hermione's desk for a spare bit of paper and a pencil. Scribbling furiously as his grey eyes darted from the journal to his paper, the rough form of a tiara began.

Hermione's heart began to race and her mouth became dry. Could it be- oh my god.

"I've seen this."


	35. Chapter 35

I hope you understand the feelings I am experiencing today. Ten years ago, I began reading HGSS and I always read the novel length works- I treasure the best of them- Hypnobarb's Looking For Magic, zeegrindylow's Where Your Treasure Is, snarkyroxy's Before The Dawn, the lamentedly abandoned Golem by Lilith Janvier... I could go on and on and on and there are many more.

Today, my fic joins the rank of the HGSS 100,000+ words category. I feel like this puts me among giants of their craft and I am so, so humbled. I have read and reread all of those stories above like they were old friends- I can just pick a chapter and dive in and the feeling is comfortable and right. I only hope that somewhere out there, there is another girl just starting to read this magnificent ship and she happens upon this and it becomes a treasured life-long friend like those have become for me.

I could not have done this without my beta, Inness, or any of this fic's loyal readers.

I will be forever humbled and grateful.

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"Get Fleur- _right now_!" Hermione shouted, her face flushed and jubilant as she clutched the finished sketch of the tiara. Draco looked bewilderdly up at her, but got up and dutifully walked out the door, confused.

In her stocking feet, Hermione uncharacteristically leaped onto her made bed and bounced ecstatically, her hands hitting the ceiling on every jump. This is how Captain Malfoy and Sergeant Major Delacoeur found her.

"Ermione?" Fleur asked, looking up at her breathless commander. "What eez going on?"

Hermione bounced again, this time landing on her bum and thrusting Draco's drawing under her nose, which she batted away in irritation before taking it and looking down.

"What do you see, Fleur?" whispered Hermione.

A furrow formed between her brows, "Why did 'ou call me down 'ere to show me a peencil sketch of zee tiara I wore at my wedding?"

Draco's mouth dropped open unattractively, and Hermione shot him a triumphal look, "You mean- Ravenclaw's- oh, wow."

"Zis eez zee diadem? Zee horcux?" squawked Fleur, "Eet must be a mistake! I wore zat!"

Hermione shook her head, "It's possible that Aunt Muriel's tiara was a reproduction of Ravenclaw's, but it still points us in the right direction! We could figure out who made it and trace the whereabouts from there. But, it's exact, isn't it, Fleur?"

The Frenchwoman nodded, still staring at the tiara, "Wouldn't I 'ave know eef I was wearing a- a- horcrux?"

Hermione shook her head, "I don't know. We never really wore any of them- the locket we could have, but it was destroyed before we had the chance. It just sat in the drawer at  
Grimmauld."

She began to look distressed, a look Hermione realized spelled disaster in their world.

Apparantly, Malfoy had picked up on it as well, because he stepped in, "Why don't you get Molly and the two of you can start dinner?"

Fleur nodded, "I won't tell anyone anything."

"Good girl," Hermione muttered as she left the room, closing the door again for privacy. "Malf, do you know how to work the phones?"

"Um-"

"Call Severus- find out when he and Captain Weasley will be back," Hermione said, tossing her cellular onto the bed before turning to leave the room. "And, good work, Captain."

"Thanks?" he called as she turned the corner.

Up the stairs to the third floor where Ron, Tonks and Lupin were sitting around playing a game of chess. The Patil twins sat nearby, Padma's feet on Parvati's back, bracing herself as she braided down her sister's long length of hair.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "I've got to see you and Tonks right away."

"We know when we're not wanted," smiled Padma, tieing up Parvati's braid. "We'll help you unpack your clothes into your room, Remus."

"What's going on?" asked Tonks as soon as they were out of earshot. Her hair was rapidly fluctuating between burgundy and dark purple, picking up on Hermione's excitement.

Hermione cleared her throat, said nothing, and laid the sketch over the pieces on the chess board.

"Aunt Muriel's tiara?" Ron puzzled.

Beaming, Hermione replied, "Nope. Guess again."

Tonks got it first, her face lax with surprise, "You mean-"

"Yeah, it is," she replied.

"Oh my god."

Ron interjected, "You don't think Aunt Muriel's tiara is Ravenclaw's- oh, shit! You think Ravenclaw's diadem is actually Aunt Muriel's tiara!"

"I think that Muriel's tiara is Ravenclaw's diadem, but yes, I do," Hermione confirmed, "This is the rough sketch from what Malfoy read in the book."

"Granger!" came a yell from the second floor, "Granger, where are you!"

Hermione returned, chuckling a bit, "I'm up here, Malfoy. What has you screaming like a girl?"

Malfoy bounded up the stairs, carrying the journal, his face pale, "It talks!"

"What?" Tonks blurted.

"I swear to Merlin," panted Draco, "I was putting things away and I asked it a question- why did you choose me- and it _wrote _me a response!"

"Don't trust anything you can't see where it keeps its brain," warned Ron, eyeing the book with mistrust.

Tonks interrupted, "What did it say?"

Draco colored brightly and mumbled, "It said I was the prettiest."

"You've got to be joking," whispered Hermione. "Give it here."

Taking the diary from Draco, she was suddenly emboldened and pulled at the strap. It slid out effortlessly and she looked down warily.

_If you wanted to read so bad, you should have just asked. _

_But I haven't had company in a while, and he really is pretty._

Hermione shrieked.

_No need to yell. _

She continued, slamming closed the covers. "Ron, get your brother."

"Which one?" he questioned, heading for the stairs.

Yelling again, she retorted, "Which one of your bloody brothers works with cursed artifacts, Ronald?"

Throwing the book onto the floor, Hermione threw up every containment spell that she knew until the area around fairly hummed with magical energy. For good measure, Tonks added another few.

"Think it's... for real?" Tonks whispered, her wand trained on the journal, which laid innocuously on the carpet.

Hermione shrugged, "When Bill gets up here, we should have him move it to the basement. I don't want it around the troops."

"Do you want to run any diagnostics?" asked Draco, looking nauseated still.

"I wouldn't even know where to start. Bill really is the best of his kind," Hermione complimented, peering through the enchantments, half expecting the book to move.

Like elephants rumbling across the Savannah red haired Weasleys thundered up the stairs.

Bill chuckled upon seeing the wards, "I think one or two would suffice."

"You want me to take chances with my troops?" Hermione retorted. "What the fuck is going on?"

He took down twenty three wards in a matter of only seconds and picked up the book, holding it carefully in his lap, "I don't sense any dark magic."

"So what is it?" demanded Hermione, her fists balling on her hips.

Vaguely irritated, but still the same old good-natured guy, Bill retorted without any malice, "You aught to go downstairs. Snape and Gin've just gotten back from London. I'll have some answers when you get back."

"I'll just go with you, Commander," Draco mumbled, heading down the stairs before Hermione could answer.

"Just go relax for a few minutes," prodded Tonks, mentally and physically.

Hermione weighed the options as she was pushed closer to the edge of the first tread, "A cigarette does sound heavenly."

Tonks nodded encouragingly, "Go. We'll take the journal to the cellar and I'll let you know what he finds as soon as he finds it."

Thanking them, Hermione went back down the stairs in a daze and to the back porch where Ginny and Seveus were portkeying in.

"Evening," Hermione sang, rather loopily. Ginny gave her a confused look and Severus dropped his head to kiss her temple as he swept inside and through the house.

Ginny questioned, "Erm, he didn't really tell me what was going on."

"It seems," Hermione chuckled, "that your Aunt Muriel's tiara is none other than Ravenclaw's diadem."

"You've got to be shitting me," exclaimed Ginny, rubbing her arms for warmth, her breath coming in long puffs in the cold air.

Hermione said that she wasn't. "And Ravenclaw's diary called Malfoy pretty."

"Now I know I'm in an alternate universe," she muttered. "You really shouldn't smoke those. They cause cancer."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at her Captain, "Wizards don't get cancer. Where'd you hear that?"

"Radio," Ginny explained casually. "So it talked to Malfoy? Why him?"

"I've'nt a damn clue," grumbled Hermione. "Give me a status update. How was the sighting?"

"Over a cuppa," Ginny insisted, opening the door to the kitchen. "Come on inside when you're done."

As Hermione smoked, she felt her nerves come back to normal- it had been a very stressful day! Ravenclaw's journal had opened for Malferret, who had _abducted _a doctor the night before, followed by her little chat with Lavender and Remus, then the tiara and the bloody book talking...

Hermione put on her angriest face, pounded her feet a few times on the frozen deck and clenched her fists.

She felt better.

Inside, Ginny had made a pot of tea and taken it to Hermione's room to get out of the way of Fleur and Molly's stress channelling- there was something going on with blow torches- creme brulee?

"You were right," Ginny said, handing Hermione her cup. "There were letters all over the place for you- the Leakey, Flourish and Blott's, Gringott's even. I didn't open them."

Hermione took the letters, separating them into piles- three from the Spanish interim leader Amaranta Morales, two from the French Fabien Roux, and one each from Switzerland's Karsten Schloemmer, Orsino Delveccio from Italy and Leora Dalessena of Greece.

"My goodness," Hermione exclaimed, "It looks like I'm going to have to spread out the groups a little more... Switzerland, Italy and Greece are pledging support."

Ginny's face split in two, her grin piercing through the dim light of the room. "That's amazing," she whispered.

"New lists to be drawn up, then!" she pronounced, standing on the bed and erasing her previous marks on the wall. "What else happened while you were gone?"

She began to make headings for each of the countries on the wall.

Ginny stared for a moment, then snapped out of it and reported, "We were seen at the apothecary again, Gringott's and in a pub off Knockturn Alley, which was disgusting. No one made any attempt to apprehend us."

"The ministry is still under full control of the Death Eaters?" questioned Hermione, marking down Draco to lead the Spanish team, Severus to lead the French team and Ginny for the Greek team, "How do you feel about some warm weather? Want to lead the Greek team?"

"I can't wait to be warm again!" Ginny exclaimed, flopping back onto Hermione's pillows.

Hermione smiled, "Who do you want on your team?"

"Give me Nev and the twins," she answered. "Speaking of giving, while we were gone, Severus picked up a little something for you..."

Giggling, Hermione replied, "And I suppose he's sworn you to secrecy?"

"Of course," Ginny affirmed, "but he didn't give me specific instructions not to tell you that he had gotten _something _for you. You're one lucky girl if he's as good in bed as you say he is."

"I never said he was good in bed," said Hermione off hand. "But he is. Lovely. Do you think that Tonks is ready, emotionally, to lead the Swiss team?"

Ginny considered, "She'll be fine, as long as Remus seems to be recovering all right."

"He's fine," Hermione answered shortly, but then softened. "I need her to be in top shape. I'll give her Bill as well- he's strong enough to hold her up if things get bad."

"You should talk to Bill before you announce that to the whole Order. He'll want to know why he wasn't picked to lead a team," reasoned Ginny. "Can I look through these letters?"

"Sure," agreed Hermione. "Have at it. Ron for Italy? I think so..."

Ginny suddenly remembered what she was going to pester her best friend about and laid aside the diplomatic missives. "So, 'Mione, have you figured out who is going to be on the firearm squad?" she wheedled.

Hermione blew out a slightly amused puff of air and pointed with her wand to a double folded piece of lined paper sitting on top of her keyboard without turning around.

Letting out a squeal of excitement, Ginny seized the page and flipped it open, her eyes landing on the third name on the list:

_Commander H. Granger_  
_Lieutenant Colonel R. Weasley  
Captain G. Weasley-_

"I'm so excited!" she shrieked, quickly scanning down the rest of the list.

Hermione laughed again, "I take it that this is to your liking?"

"Is it ever!" she exclaimed. "When are you going to announce this?"

Not turning, but erasing and moving around a few names, Hermione replied, "I thought you would, and this list of assignments, at dinner."

"You want me to do it?" goggled Ginny, "I'm just a captain."

Hermione finished the last flourish on her lists and sunk to the pillows to rest her head on Ginny's shoulder. "I was thinking of advancing you to Second Lieutenant Major and Draco to First Captain, Charlie to Second Captain and Kingsley as Third. Thoughts?"

"Ahm, well, yeah? Great?" Ginny stammered. "Why?"

"You've done well," reminded Hermione. "And I want Kingsley in my upper Ranks. Or, I could make Snape into a Lieutenant Colonel and move Bill to Major and you to Lieutenant Major. Regardless."

"Well, thanks," Ginny answered, her eyes a bit starry.

Hermione joked, "Now, what did Severus bring me from London?"

Gasping and throwing her hand over her heart theatrically, Ginny replied, "You're bribing me!"

"No, no!" giggled Hermione, "I'm just asking...please?"

Ginny shook her head violently, "I crossed my heart. Snape's scary- he'll kill me- literally."

"I'll demote him," threatened Hermione.

"Commander!" yelled Bill suddenly from outside the door, "You've got to see this!"

Hermione and Ginny were up and out of the comfortable bed in an instant and flying out the door.

"What is it, Lieutenant Major?" Hermione cried.

Bill smiled broadly, "You've just got to see for yourself. Come on."

He led them down the steps and into the room that the survivors of Rona had been using. On the coffee table sat the book, which Severus was scribbling in. Tonks looked over his shoulder intently, the most still she had ever seen the other woman.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione, irritated that Severus of all people would be writing in a book of that value, that indescribable value.

Tonks beamed. "Tell her, Bill!"

Catching his breath in his enthusiasm, Bill began to explain, "In ancient Egypt, one of the ways a person achieved eternal life is through the transfiguration of human to object, such as from person to a piece of jewelry to be worn by a loved one or a monument in a city if they were a king or noble. As it would seem-"

Tonks interjected, "Ravenclaw transfigured herself into a _book! _Into her own journal!"

"You've got to be shitting me," Hermione gasped. "That book is Rowena Ravenclaw herself?"

Bill nodded excitedly, "From what we've been able to find out from her is that when she got old, she purposefully transfigured herself into the journal."

"Why?" questioned Ginny. "Why would someone do that? Why not a vase or something?"

Tonks looked down, hastily reading the words that had appeared, "She says that she wanted eternal life- obvious. And she wanted to talk to people and not get bored as a potted plant."

"She's a bit snarky, it seems," Bill chuckled.

Interpreting, Severus, King of Snark, replied, "Am not."

"So does she know where the diadem is?" Hermione demanded.

Tonks, again, interpreted, "No. I haven't even heard of it since the dark ages. Last I heard, there was a family that was passing it down from generation to generation claiming that it was- oh my God- goblin made. As if goblins could make something of such superior quality."

"Ok," Hermione moaned, "We have a Weasley family tiara, a talking book that is really Rowena Ravenclaw with a crush on the littlest Malfoy and... Wow, what a day!"

Severus read the words aloud that had appeared, "He is- I'm not going to say that!"

"What did she say?" coaxed Ginny.

"For Merlin's sake!" Severus swore, handing the book to Tonks.

Tonks giggled, "It says, 'the blonde one is sexy', and then she goes on to say, 'Weasley doesn't sound like the name of the family that has the diadem. Was it Percell? Purvis?' She's trying to remember the name, I think."

"Prewett!" Ginny exclaimed, "The tiara is from my Mum's side- the Prewetts!"

Tonks looked down, "That's it! The Prewetts have the diadem."

"Excellent work, all," Hermione congratulated. "Now, I believe that we should be attending to dinner. Go ahead and spread around the good news. Severus, a word in my quarters?"

After hugging Tonks and Bill, Hermione dashed upstairs with the last reserves of her energy and into her room where Severus was waiting.

"Oh, hold me," Hermione whimpered. "It's been a terribly productive day, but I'm exhausted."

His hard facade softened and he held out his arms for her to crawl into, "We haven't much time for this, my girl."

"I know," she mumbled into his chest, his soft, cable knit Weasley sweater soft on her cheek. "What did you bring me?"

"Impetuous girl," a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, "Did Miss Weasley tell you I had something for you?"

Hermione smiled, "Maybe. If not, I just confirmed it."

Shifting her slightly, Severus reached into the pocket of his traveling coat laying at the end of the bed and fished out a large, flat box, "Open it."

Gently, Hermione took the black velvet box from him and slowly opened the top, "Oh, Severus."

"They were my Grandmother's- the one that would have liked you," he explained.

Hermione tentatively ran her fingertip down one of the earrings that glittered fiercely from their velvet bed, "They're stunning," she whispered.

Taking them from their confines, Severus held them in his palm as he took out her plain silver earrings and lovingly threaded the wires through the holes. Surprisingly light and delicate, the earrings caressed the curve of her cheek, the rows of diamonds sparkling fiercely in their platinum art deco setting.

"I thought you would wear them to the dinner you've been invited to with the President of the United States. Apparently, she's known we were here the whole time," He said, kissing her on the apple of her flushed, excited cheek. "I think they might pledge support- what support the States usually gives to anyone."

Hermione gasped, "You took the letter! I didn't see it!"

"I thought it would be a nice surprise," he answered, brushing feather light kisses along her cheek bones. "The invitation was for you, but I'm hoping you'll ask me to the ball like a giddy third year."

"You're sweet, Severus," Hermione nuzzled into him, the cool diamonds on his warm neck. "Of course you can go with me."

He smiled, "Good girl."

"That just about makes up for the whole of the day," Hermione giggled, pulling back from the warmth of his neck. "Help me take them out. I don't think they're Weasley dinner worthy."

His nimble fingers made quick work of them, laying the earrings back onto their velvet pad. "I'm glad you like them."

"Love them," she replied, kissing him soundly on the mouth. Hermione pulled back just a fraction, her breath mingling with his. "I-"

"I know."


	36. Chapter 36

I'm really sorry if you were inundated with thirty-five update emails. I made a big, big oopsie and pretty much erased this whole fic. Its taken me all evening as I watch the Oscars.

It pretty much sucked.

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There was indeed creme brulee at the end of dinner, complete with little fireworks shooting off red, blue and green sparks in honor of locating the last horcrux.

At Hermione's request, the troops stayed around their two long tables after the last bit of brulee was served and the hot coffee and tea had been poured.

"Thank you for staying after dinner for these short announcements," Hermione said over the soft mumbles of her troops. "I'm giving the honors tonight to the newly promoted Second Lieutenant Major Ginny Weasley."

Scattered applause met Ginny as she stood and she took three comical bows, one to each side and one to Hermione, "Thank you, thank you," she laughed. "First, I would like to welcome back two of our heroic number, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt!"

More applause, more raucous this time for their comrade's return. Dr. Atwell clapped loudest of all- strangely at peace with his place in this ragtag bunch.

"Excellent," continued Ginny. "I would like to give you the information that will change the course of this war- drum roll please-"

Fred and George immediately began beating on the tables, shaking the coffee cups.

"Thank you, Gred and Forge. Today, while newly minted - Snape and I were wandering Diagon Alley, these-" she held up the stack of letters high, "were given to us, hoping that we would safely courier them to our beloved commander-"

More cheering, to which Hermione blushed fiercely.

"And that said beloved commander-"

The pounding continued, this time spreading through the Order and to both tables.

"Would consider their aid!" Ginny finished triumphantly. She let the cheering subside before continuing, "Therefore, any assignments you received earlier today are now null and void- we no longer only have two Magical Governments pledging support, we have Germany! Italy! Greece! Spain and France!"

Severus shouted from his seat, slinging his arm around Hermione's shoulder, "And don't forget the ever wished for letter from the States!"

"Brilliant!" Ginny cried. "Don't we think that's brilliant?"

To that, Fred and George began singing a version of the Hogwart's School Song, to which the whole table joined in, excepting the slightly confused, but very happy Jesse Atwell.

"But wait, there's more," announced Ginny, "I have in my hands here the division of troops- anyone want a bit of a holiday?"

Chorused of "Me, Me!" resounded but were easily silenced with Hermione's glare.

"All right, quiet down," Ginny coaxed theatrically, "Heading the team in Spain is Malfoy, joining him is Charlie, Lovegood and Thomas- I hear it's warm this time of year. I'm leading the team in Greece with Gred, Forge and Longbottom- guys, we're going to get a tan. Italy is being led by Ron with Shacklebolt, MacMillian and Abbot. Germany with Tonks is Bill, Jordan and Papa Weasley and finally, the French team is being led by the Professor with Delacoeur, Mama Malfoy and Bell. Mama Weasley, Mama Tonks and Patil twins are our home guard. Commander Granger will be dropping in on all of us at any time she wants, so be on your best behaviour. And directly from the Commander herself, Charlie, Dean, if Luna and Malfoy are getting too frisky, you're allowed to do whatever it takes to separate them."

Draco looked nonplussed and leaned over to Luna, whispering something in her ear which she serenely nodded to.

"He's a bit of an exhibitionist, Commander," she related, chewing on the ends of her hair. "I'll be sure to make him be good."

This time, Malfoy did flush brightly and there was a rowdy whoop from the gathered.

Hermione laughed, nodding at Ginny, who sat back down next to Dr. Atwell and the twins. "All right, everyone. Next, I'm going to let Lieutenant Colonel Weasley announce the firearm squad. After that, Hannah would like me to let you know that there will be a showing of Titanic directly after dinner in the sitting room. Lupin and Kingsley, I need to see you this evening to mark you with the Phoenix, and Bill or Gin, if you'd be so kind. Also, Charlie has so kindly volunteered to be your designated driver should you like to go downtown to several bars or night clubs. He's leaving at exactly nine pm, so if you would like to be heathen American muggles wearing barely nothing to dance in for the evening, you'd best be there."

"Parvati, I'm looking at you," Charlie called, gesturing from his eyes to her. She girlishly giggled and said nothing.

Hermione wagged her finger at them mockingly, "Also remember to sign out and to either glamour your phoenix mark or cover it with clothing. If a single mark is left in view when you leave this house, you will be grounded- literally- and will not be able to leave the house- not even to go outside- for a week."

'And you don't want to be punished by her," Ron joked as he stood up, taking the final list from Hermione and began, "Its not pretty. So, let me get to the point so that we can go get kaylied and grind with American girls. I know most or all of us wanted the chance to work with the guns, and for the most part, you're going to. But if you didn't get picked to be part of the squad, it is definitely because you were needed elsewhere, not because we didn't think you would make the grade in the firearm squadron."

He cleared his throat twice and began reading, "Commander Granger, Me," he shrugged cockily, "Ginny, Snape, Bill, Malfoy-"

Draco cut him off with a prolonged, "Brilliant!"

"Neville, Luna, Dad, Fleur, Katie and Dean," Ron finished, senting a glare Malfoy's way.

"Thank you," Hermione called out over the din. "This impromptu meeting of the Order of the Phoenix is adjourned. No need for notes, Padma."

What Hermione hoped was the last round of applause for the evening broke out and she began helping Dr. Atwell to clear the plates.

"How are you this evening, Doctor?" Hermione politely inquired.

He grinned broadly, scooping silverware into a cup, "To be honest, this is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me. I've always loved fantasy novels since I was a kid- oh, fantasy novels are-"

"Its all right," Hermione assured. "I'm a muggle born."

"Right, your parents weren't magical, right? And that's pretty much what this whole war is about," confirmed Atwell.

Hermione hedged, "Sort of. That's like saying that the American civil war only happened because there were slaves. But you've got the idea."

Nodding, he took the stack of dirty plates Hermione was offering, "I bet there's wondering where I've been at work, though."

"Probably," Hermione agreed. "You can go back and come here at night and stay on your off days or we can get you assigned to Bolivia or something- it would be easier to explain to your friends and family."

Atwell goggled, "I can't believe that I've been chosen to help with a magical war. This is so insane."

"You would understand, then, how I felt when I got my letter from Hogwarts when I was eleven," replied Hermione wryly.

He laughed rather self deprecatingly at himself before divulging, "I used to run around with a stick trying to make things fly when I was a kid."

Hermione considered, "Do you want to try?"

"Try what?" replied Dr. Atwell, his hand stilling over a drinking glass.

"A wand- we keep extra ones in case ours get snapped, which they regularly do," Hermione explained. "I'll let you look at them after we've put the dishes in the sink."

"Thanks," he blushed. "Wow, its still so weird that magic is real and all."

"No big deal," Hermione waved him off, then turned her head towards the sitting room and yelled, "Malfoy! Come in here."

He came trotting in a moment later, a bottle of muggle beer hanging casually from his hand, "What's going on, Granger?"

"Thought you'd do the dishes this evening. The bathroom where the survivors were quarantined wasn't cleaned today," she smirked.

Draco sighed, exchanging a look with Dr. Atwell, "How long are you going to hold that little thing over my head? He's even happy here for Merlin's sake."

"Until you get the picture that every single tiny, infinitesimal thing you do must be cleared with your commanding officer first, in this case, Captain Weasley, who would then report it to me," explained Hermione calmly, piling some plates on top of Dr. Atwell's waiting stack. "Until that point, you're my bitch."

"Can I use magic because it worked out well?" he wheedled.

"No," she replied shortly, "You're not using magic because it did work out. If it hadn't, I would have taken pity on your failure and let you use it."

"I'll give you a hand," Atwell said, "If that's all right with you, Commander."

Hermione gave her assent, carrying a load into the kitchen and depositing them into the sink. "Pretty boy probably doesn't know how to do them by hand."

Draco scoffed, "How do you think I did them while I was at Spinner's End? I used as little magic as I could."

"Granted," Hermione retorted. "With both of you working, you should be done with plenty of time to prep and get ready for the outing with Charlie tonight."

"I'm allowed to leave the house?" Draco confirmed.

Atwell laughed, "I was about to ask the same thing."

"Both of you are given leave into the care of Captain Weasley. Don't do anything I would do, got it, boys?" smiled Hermione. "And, Doctor, we can do the wand thing tomorrow. We're going to have a few down days now."

"How many times do I have to tell you that Jesse is fine?" he asked, mock shaking his finger at her.

"Many, many more," replied Hermione, opening the door to her bedroom. "Evening, men."

"Do you want to put one something skimpy and dance with sweaty young men?" asked Severus from her desk, the mouse clicking away as he played a game of mine sweeper.

Hermione barked a laugh, unbuttoning her sweater and hanging it in the closet. "That's amusing, Severus, really. Do I seem the type to frivol?"

"It could be amusing," he turned to face her, a wild gleam in his eye. "Don't you want to see your troops when no one is watching them?"

She slid her shoes off, tucking them under the bed, "And how exactly would you propose to do that?"

He held up a flask, "Polyjuice, anyone?"

"You just happened to have some lying around?" questioned Hermione, taking it from him and unscrewing the lid.

Not directly answering her, he held up two phials, "The long one's for you."

"You assume I'm going to do this?" she laughed, putting a fist on her hip. He said nothing, but continued holding up the flask. "Fine, but for only an hour. After that, I want to get back and work."

Severus grinned a bit, "I picked this for a reason. You're not going to work, I'm going to take you to a hotel and be adventurous with you."

"Who are you and what have you done with Professor Snape?" Hermione laughed. "All right, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I have to."

He grinned wickedly, pouring out a measure into Hermione's bedside glass, gently lifting the single short hair from the phial and-

"Oh, no! Don't!" Hermione moaned. Severus retracted his hand quizzically. She explained, "I forgot, I have to do Phoenix marks for Kingsley and Remus."

Severus swore and banished the potion, glass and all.

"You got rid of my cup!" Hermione cried, glaring at him.

Moving swiftly, Severus pinned her to the bed, grinding his hips into her warm thigh, "How easy do you think it is to do magic with an erection like this?"

Hermione giggled, "You've got to make it up to me then."

"I will," he promised, gently pulling apart the buttons on her blouse, scratching his chin down her sternum until he met her worn, cream colored bra. "I'm going to get you some green and silver lingerie when I go to London next."

"I think mine are just fine," she retorted. "They're practical and comfortable."

Biting down on her nipple through the fabric of her practical, comfortable brassiere, Severus replied, "There is nothing practical about sex, Pearl."

"I wear undergarments because I need them," reasoned Hermione, letting him work the front clasp open. "If I was flat chested like Ginny, I wouldn't."

"I'd like you to go without more often," Severus mentioned, pushing aside the offending practical, comfortable fabric. "You've such lovely tits."

Hermione gasped, "How crass."

He bit her nipple again, this time on her bare breast, "You like it."

"I do," she confirmed, arching her back to meet his teasing mouth. "Please."

Pulling his sweater over his head, Severus pressed his warm chest to hers, relishing the feel of of skin against skin. Maneuvering his hand past the waistband of her denims, he cupped her sex, letting her push against his wrist and palm, desperate for some friction.

"Please?" she asked sweetly, opening up her legs for him, wiggling to get out of her jeans.

He looked torn, but withdrew his hand, trailing moisture up her belly and began to free himself from his trousers. Hermione pulled her own down quickly, depositing them haphazardly on the desk and scooted up the bed excitedly.

When Severus had finished his undressing, minus his socks, he nearly dove at her, leveling his face with her body and eagerly pushing his tongue inside her. He groaned, "I wanted to taste you so bad."

"I don't really mind being tasted," Hermione retorted.

Nuzzling her sex with his mouth and nose appreciatively, he reached over to the desk, groping until he found the box with the earrings. Surfacing, he ordered, "Put them on."

Hermione's hands shook as she opened the box and tried to put the beautiful earrings in her ears while he continued his onslaught, licking and sucking at her in earnest. When they were secure, she laid the box on his upper back.

He took it as a sign and gave her clit a final suck before rearing up and kissing Hermione full on the mouth, mingling her juices around her mouth, leaving her lips red and wanton.

"Beautiful," whispered Severus, brushing her hair away from the diamond earrings. Their lovemaking instantly took a turn- his movements became gentle and reverent, as if the diamonds in her ears made her a different person, one to be loved and craved. "So beautiful."

Hermione keened, digging her nails into the pale flesh of his shoulders.

They had found the last horcrux, the world was getting behind them and Hermione had the man she loved in her arms.


	37. Chapter 37

I've been on my much deserved holiday in Greece the past week and a half, so writing was suspended. I have much going on coming back to work tomorrow, so I apologize in advance for the erratic scheduling of the next few chapters.

Also, while I was in Greece, I happened to find a really lovely bronze-ish necklace with a pendant of a phoenix similar to the mark the Order took. Leave me a comment on this chapter telling me what your favorite scene of this fic so far has been and on Friday I'll randomly choose a winner!

Good Luck!

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With the sunlight pouring into the warm kitchen, the firearm team was called in to look at the objects placed side by side on the counter- their guns.

Ron smiled brightly, then began to speak, "I have been doing a lot of research this past while, and I have chosen fire arms for all of you based on your size and strength and temperament."

"Can I have the one with the pretty silver?" Luna asked lightly, pointing to a pair of revolvers.

The group laughed, but Ron replied, "Sorry, those are Malfoy's. SP 100s by Ruger. Thought you would be the one to try for double wielding like in the Matrix. You've the best reflexes of all of us."

Malfoy ran his fingers gently over the brushed steel barrels, "Wow," he breathed.

"Katie, Luna," Ron indicated a pair of snub nosed black handguns, "You two have these 3032 Beretta Tomcats. They're good for small ladies and they're easily concealable."

Pointing down the line at a long barrelled black gun, "Dad, that's yours. It's a Browning Buck Mark and its got a lot of parts. You can open it up, if you want. There's no ammunition in it."

Arthur smiled, but withheld.

"Bill, Nev and Dean, you've got these," gestured the red head, indicating a trio of semi automatic glocks. "Fleur-" he handed her hilt first a diminutive pistol, "I know it looks small, but that's a Semmerling and it packs a serious punch. Snape-"

He spoke up, almost sounding bored, "I'm quite all right, Weasley." From his jacket pocket he withdrew the revolver from their demonstration in the week prior, the massive chamber dwarfing the other guns on the counter as he slid it in place. "It seems to have grown on me."

Hermione stepped on his foot for being rude but he only glared at her with half an ounce of venom.

Shrugging, Ron continued, "Ginny and Hermione, you've both these Kimber Aegis here."

Letting her eyes roam appreciatively over the aluminum frame of her gun and its fluted rosewood grip, Hermione nodded. She picked it up, testing its weight in both of her hands, gripping her wand with her dominant and the firearm with the weaker. "Nice," she pronounced.

"I want you to all take your firearm and get a feel for it. I know that you don't know how to work it, but I got a thing for the telly that plays and it shows you some of the basics," Ron requested, picking up his own Remington and aiming it at the floor, staring down the scope. "Mrs. Malfoy and Parvati have agreed to work on holsters for us, so figure out where you want to anchor your weapon."

With an odd giddiness, Malfoy picked up his pistols and crossed them over his shoulders, "I want them on my back like this so when the dark lord sees me do this," he mimed drawing his guns and aiming them at an invisible monster, "it'll be so _fucking cool._"

"You've lost it, Captain Malfoy," Hermione retorted, tucking the cool muzzle of her revolver into her denims, next to her skin.

Ron considered, "I think that the back is supposed to be a good place to keep them, but I don't really remember."

"It seems easy," commented Ginny, drawing the twin of Hermione's from her back waistband. "And if we have cloaks, its very easily concealable."

Hermione began to nod in agreement, only to see Ginny's face take on a sickly hue and a light sheen of sweat to break out on her upper lip, "Gins?"

She managed a tremulous smile before slipping out of the room at a quick walk and to the bathroom on the other end of the kitchen. The group had already continued in the conversation and it didn't seem that anyone had thought Ginny's exit was anything unlikely. Looking around in bewilderment, her eyes made contact with Luna's The blonde just gave a small upward twitch of her shoulders and smiled serenely.

"Could you go check on her?" Hermione asked quietly, cocking her head towards the bathroom.

Luna said that she would, and put on a kettle of tea before disappearing around the corner.

"Well, that's all I've got for you today," declared Ron. "Take your firearm and mess around with it a bit. Just don't point it at anyone or anything. Treat it like the weapon it is. I've got the ammunition coming tomorrow or the next day, so before we fire them, I want everyone to watch the thing I brought for the telly."

Hermione spoke up, "I'm going to run it tonight in the sitting room directly after dinner, followed by the Bond film of the week, Timothy Dalton's License to Kill."

"Dalton? I quite liked that Lazenby character," Luna quipped, coming around the corner, her arm around an ashen Ginny.

Draco looked taken aback, "You're kidding me."

"He was my favorite as well," mused Snape, picking up his pistol and weighing it from hand to hand. "Its the most emotionally vulnerable of the series and he played that aspect of Bond quite well."

It was Hermione's turn to look at her significant other strickenly, "Dalton is the only Bond I acknowledge."

"Well, of course," Snape retorted, "His films began when you were a child- they were the first you saw?"

Katie interjected, "He's definitely the most attractive Bond. Lazenby that is."

"Regardless," interjected Hermione forcefully. "The film on your firearms will be shown this evening directly after dinner."

Malfoy piped in, "Can I skip doing the dishes tonight, then?"

Scowling, Hermione agreed, "But you're back to them tomorrow."

Dinner was a festive affair in honor of Tonk's birthday and Molly outdid herself with a splendid roast mutton and mountains of all of the birthday girl's favorite foods. Fred and George surprised the table with a large actually edible cake with twenty-eight little sparkling candles on the top. Afterwards, Dr. Atwell was kind enough to start up the dvd player and then to try to explain all of the special effects in the James Bond Film. Half-way through the film, when the purebloods had gotten the gist of sfx, Hermione called him aside and into her room.

"How are they faring?" she asked, getting straight to the point.

Dr. Atwell looked tentative, but responded, "Kingsley is continuing to improve daily and I believe next week we should begin to wean him from the antidepressants. Tonks is coping well, but I have chosen to keep her in the dark as to Remus' infidelities after his capture. The sooner this whole thing ends, the better off they will be. Remus is who I am most concerned about- he is particularly moody and sullen. If I could ask, when do you think this will be over?"

Hermione sighed, "We've only got a few more things to accomplish before we can confront Riddle. I would say within the month, at least, I hope."

"Then my advice is this: make sure Remus is constantly occupied with important tasks. If he perceives that he is not useful, he will be inclined to sulk and will be a danger to his fellow soldier," Atwell explained. "I would be tempted to say that he might be more of a liability than a help at this point and no amount of telling him to 'buck up' is going to help."

"Do you think we had best just get him out?" worried Hermione, twisting her coverlet between the fingers of one hand.

He sighed, "I hate to tell you to do that. He seems to be a knowledgeable fellow and I don't know how important he is to your cause."

"Bollocks," swore Hermione. "This is so not what I signed up for."

"It rarely is, it seems," Dr. Atwell reassured. "But I trust that you will make the correct decision for your troops."

"Let's hope so," she muttered darkly.

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Hermione's arms began to tremor as she dropped the gun to her side, ejected the spent cartridge and slammed the new round into the hilt.

"Fire in the hole!" she called, taking a wide stance and leveling her arms with the cardboard target three meters out.

She emptied the round, then stalked up to the cardboard to examine her shots.

"Not bad, Granger," Malfoy commented, coming in close behind her. "You're dropping downward, but you got two chest shots."

"Fatality," thundered Ron, loading up from behind the line.

Hermione noted her shots and then turned, "I think that you just want us to play video games for amusement."

"She's catching on," whispered Ginny conspiratorally. "No more Mortal Kombat."

Ron shook his head, "I really think that it will improve our response time."

In the day since Ron had presented them with their firearms, the team had gone nearly bonkers with enthusiasm- an enthusiasm that Hermione had never thought likely after Harry's death and the subsequent exile of the Order. He had them on an intense regimen of shooting practices and work outs both physical and mental, although h ve himself was reading from a book entitled 'Target Shooting For Dummies'. In the morning, Hermione and the others had been rousted from their beds for a two mile run through the forest and a peppering of questions and drills on loading, unloading and cleaning their weapons.

Ron released a burst into the air, peppering the target with shots. After the smoke cleared, Malfoy examined the board.

"I think that guiding charm Luna did really helped out," he called. "Three chest shots and a head shot."

Hermione smiled, "Would you and Luna like to run an errand for me?"

Malfoy sauntered over, tucking his revolvers over his shoulders and into their holsters, "And what would this errand involve?"

Gently releasing the spent cartridge from her gun, Hermione answered, "I have a task for your father. It requires a bit of research, so I was hoping that the two of you would go along and help him."

Flicking his hair back behind his shoulder again, Draco asked, "Objective?"

Hermione tossed the cartridge into the outdoor garbage can littered with shells and other cartridges and slid open the door, letting them into the kitchen.

"Good afternoon, poppet," Severus whispered as Hermione brushed by him as he stood at the stove flipping three dozen grilled cheese sandwiches.

Malfoy greeted him as well, "You've lunch duty, Godfather?"

"It seems that I do," he replied, quirking an eyebrow in Draco's direction. It was not nearly as menacing without his long, limp hair and fiercely hawkish nose.

"Need anything?" asked Hermione.

Severus half smiled in her direction and replied in the negative.

Opening the fridge and extracting a bottle of juice, she replied finally to Malfoy's question, "Sorry, Captain. Objective is this: I need information on every known Death Eater. Where they live, who their family is, everything. I want you to head up the task force for after we destroy Riddle- there are plenty of people that are still going to want to kill us and you have to find them and decide the best method of neutralization."

"Forgive me, Commander, but isn't that a job for the Ministry?" Draco questioned respectfully, pulling down two clear glasses from an upper cabinet.

Hermione affirmed, "It is, but they will have taken so many hits by that time, and currently, the Ministry is under Riddle's control. When we kill him for good, the Ministry's employees that are on his side will scatter. I'm hoping that Kingsley will be willing to take up his old place as the Director of the MLE department."

"And you'll be Minister?" Draco asked, his voice jocular but still earnest.

Scoffing, Hermione shook her head violently, "When this is over, Malfoy, I'm going to be somewhere on a deserted island. A deserted island with a library."

"You don't want to stay?" asked Malfoy quizzically. "I thought..."

Setting her glass down on the counter gently, she explained, "My parents have had their memories erased and their living in Australia. The first thing I do after the rubble has cleared is go find them and restore their memories. After that, and if they forgive me, I need to make my amends, probably by living in Australia for a while and showing them that I'm never going to do anything like that, ever again."

"Everyone is going to want you to stay, Granger," countered Malfoy. "You're leading the light side- they're going to want you at every victory banquet they throw."

Severus succinctly answered for her, "I believe that Miss Granger, like most of us, will desire only to retire from public life and to a more quiet existence after the conclusion of the war."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed, making eye contact with her lover through the steam of the cooking food. "Now, Draco, if you would, please alert everyone that lunch will be ready shortly?"

"Of course," Draco demurred, making his way through to the sitting room to inform those lounging there.

The cool stone counters felt lovely on Hermione's strained hands, chapped and sore from gripping her weapon. "And I've a favor to ask of you as well, Severus."

He glanced over but said nothing, indicating for her to continue.

"I'd like you to go to Suffolk with Bill to retrieve the diadem," she requested. "And I would request that you destroy it."

Pausing in thought, then continuing his grilled cheese vigilance, Severus replied, "I might wonder if it would be more prudent to wait until directly before the time in which we have decided to end the dark lord. If in fact he is aware of the destruction of the horcruxes, we will want to act quickly."

Hermione nodded, "I see the merit in that line of action. I will think on it."

"Excellent," pronounced Severus. "Would you please heat that large pot of tomato soup, Pearl?"

"Of course," she replied, lifting the lid of the large ten litre soup toureen. The gentle smell of basil met her nose, followed by oregano and pepper. "This smells amazing, Severus."

"Potions Masters tend to be decent cooks," he explained. "We understand the subtleties of flavor well."

"I rather liked potions, did you know?" Hermione mentioned off hand.

He nodded, but his brow furrowed quizzically, "I knew you excelled, but I was not sure if you would pursue them further, rather, or even if you liked it. In fact, no one knew what you would pursue further."

Hermione let out a little huff of laughter as she re-covered the soup toureen. "I barely know what I want to do, Severus. My life is so completely consumed by this war that I can't even imagine what to do after it other than ignore the whole world for months at a time."

"I confess, I as well am unsure as to what my life will entail after this," Severus replied baldly. He gestured with his shoulder to the two huge serving platters next to him. Hermione picked it up and he began placing the piping hot melted sandwiches into it with the spatula.

"You've spent so many years either being a spy... isn't that a profession you could enter into?" joked Hermione, "Lend your service to the crown?"

Severus snorted uncharacteristically and shook his head, "I rather thought of medicinal potions development for myself. Spying was so odious."

"Only you could be so blase about a lifetime of spying," Hermione huffed, carrying the platters into the dining room, brushing past Hannah Abbott with them. When she returned, she continued softly, whispering into his ear, "I was serious about the deserted island with a beach- you're quite welcome to join me."

"That sounds... acceptable," he responded, publicly kissing her temple before lifting up the soup. He sat it down on the sideboard in the dining room as Hermione slid a dish towel under to keep the wood from scorching. "Although, as you could guess, my skin does burn quite intensely."

"How about mountains, then?" flirted Hermione, sitting down at the table closest to the windows. He gave her a slightly embarrassed look, but sat down in the seat across from her with Ginny on one side and Fleur on the other.

The grilled cheese were passed around and the soup ladled out when Hermione stood up and made her announcement, "After lunch, we'll be having a meeting. If there are any articles that need to be brought up at the meeting, let me know and I'll be sure to address them. Thank you."

Ginny leaned across the table and asked Hermione, "I think Dean's dropped behind on doing the chore schedule. No one has cleaned the upstairs landing bathroom in about a week. I did it this morning because it was really gross."

"I'll make sure it gets up to date," Hermione reassured, sipping the last of her soup from her bowl. She gestured at Ginny's mangled sandwich, torn into little pieces on her plate. "You're not hungry?"

Shrugging, she replied, "Eh, I'm just feeling a little off still. I think I ate something off when I went out with Tonks and Remus the other night- I've been a little under the weather in the belly since then."

"Why don't you ask Narciss for a potion?" suggested Hermione gently. "You are looking a little peaky, now."

Ginny said that she would and they finished eating and milled about for a few moments before settling into the sitting room for the meeting.

"Last meeting January the tenth at eight thirty in the morning," Padma began, reading off the meeting from the previous week.

"So, I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to order," proclaimed Hermione, standing in front of the fireplace, addressing the gathered. 


	38. Chapter 38

I'm intensely angry with . There has been a problem uploading as many of you have probably figured out and people at the forums finally figured out a hack to get around the error. If only I could figure out the technology on ashwinder. If anyone wants to upload this story on ashwinder for me, I would be eternally in debt.

But, as I promised for Friday (grrr), I selected a random review for the prize (I got blankety blank number of reviews and I went to the gym Fri morning with my gym buddy and I was like, hey, gym buddy, choose a number between one and blankety blank.)

Padfootsgrl79, come on down!

You can see what she's won on my blog, thebuescherproject, under the tab, cleverly, entitled 'In The Ashes'.

Send me a pm with your address, padfootsgrl79 and I'll send out your prize on Monday!

Thanks everyone who left wonderful reviews; they really made my overly hectic week!

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"Tomorrow morning, I've asked Severus and Bill to go to Suffolk to retrieve the diadem from Muriel. The problem I am facing is this," Hermione began, addressing the whole Order, "I am not sure whether we should destroy the diadem on the spot or if we should wait until directly before our confrontation with Riddle on the chance that he feels the destruction of one of his horcruxes."

"I am in favor of waiting for the proper time; we don't know what will happen to him if there is only one remaining piece of soul, that in his body," Draco commented.

Kingsley seconded the idea, but Remus pointed, "If we destroy it immediately and we are attacked in a surprise ambush, it will be already taken care of."

"Even if his body is destroyed and he's 'dead' and the diadem is still active, couldn't we just destroy the horcrux and it would end him?" asked Bill, his arm loosely around his wife.

Severus shook his head, "We know so little about horcruxes that it would be prudent to stay on the safe side of every action we take."

"Are there any other points to make?" Hermione asked, surveying the sea of faces. "No? All right, then, we'll put it to a vote. Those in favor-"

Severus, Draco and Kingsley let their hands shoot into the air, but the others were slower to decide. After a few moments, Hermione counted the hands. "Motion passed, then, with a majority. We'll wait to destroy the horcrux."

"Where are we going to keep it?" Tonks asked, looking around as if a secure place would appear in the sitting room.

Bill said, "I think that we could build a kind of secure box for it and keep it in the basement."

"D'you think we need to have someone sitting with it round the clock?" Ron questioned. "Its been sitting in Aunt Muriel's attic til now, you know?"

Hermione considered, "How would we do it? In shifts of four hours? Could we get a bag or something to keep it in while the person is on shift?"

"A bag could be charmed the same way, I think," Bill replied. "But would proximity to the object be harmful?"

Ginny shuddered from experience, "You really don't want to get too close to those things."

"Box it is," Hermione declared and she thought she saw the room relax a fraction at her decree. "Next up, I've revised the dates that the groups will be leaving. Tonks brought up the point that it would be foolhardy to have the entire Order scatter the globe at the same time and it would leave us vulnerable to attacks. The meetings have been scheduled in this way- Spanish team is going first with their meeting on the twelfth, and they're leaving tomorrow evening after Major Snape and Lieutenant Major Weasley have returned, as scheduled. France has their meeting on the fifteenth of this month and departure the night before. Italy on the twentieth and Germany on the twenty-third and Greece on the twenty-fifth."

Padma nodded, grateful for the pause in speaking, her pen flying over the page as she made notes, "Thanks," she said, looking up.

"I will ask you to have the governments prepare to send supplies by no later than the twenty-eighth. I know this will be a stretch for the Greeks, but Ginny can write them a letter explaining," Hermione explained. She took a deep, fortifying breath. "I think that we're going to be ready the first week of February for... the confrontation."

Tonks politely raised her hand and Hermione called on her to speak, "Do you have a plan? I mean, where are we going to intercept him? And how will we know it?"

"I've considered that," said Hermione. "Frankly, I don't know. I would, of course, welcome any suggestions after the meeting."

Hermione ventured a look at her comrades and it was more bleak than she expected.

"Come on guys," Ginny ventured, looking around. "You look like your pet rat just died. You heard the lady: the end of the war is coming."

Even the twins were looking awkwardly at Ginny, but she didn't stop. Instead she stood up and threw her support with Hermione, "Listen, we've got this one in the bag. Riddle thinks that we're beaten and he's figuring out a way to defeat Neville."

"No offence taken," guffawed Neville from the floor at Katie Bell's feet. "I know I'm no impossible foe."

Hermione nodded, "Gin's right. His head isn't where the game really is. We're strong- aren't we Ron?"

Ron looked sceptical, "Only four of us could run two miles without walking or near death, but we will be strong- as strong as we need to be."

"And we've got the guns," Malfoy assured, beginning to pick up of the uplifted attitude.

"So imagine," Hermione said, "that when you're visiting the foreign emissaries, you're actually making alliances for our future government after the war. We need supplies right now- safe houses set up in each city, political immunity and practical rations like extra wands and medical supplies and medics available to us. But after the smoke has cleared, we will need these other countries to rebuild England."

"We've taken such heavy losses already," Molly whispered, her head on her eldest son's shoulder.

"I know," reassured Hermione. "But the object of the attack will to be quick in, quick out. We locate Voldemort, we destroy the horcrux, we destroy his body, we disable his Death Eaters."

"Do you think we would have time to do anti-portkey and anti-apparation wards?" Severus asked. "It would prove easier to round them up if they could only flee on foot."

Charlie piped in, "And what does disable mean? Kill them? Maim? Take their wand?"

"Whatever is necessary, Charlie," Hermione confirmed, her jaw clenching and her shoulders squaring. "I'm hoping that we can get away with taking their wands or maiming, likely by bullet. The first bullet must be fired at Voldemort or we've lost the element of surprise. And, Severus, I am hopeful that we will be able to secure a meeting spot on an island where there is a natural barrier if we don't have enough time for our wards."

"Or somewhere with a wall..." mused Draco. "It's my father's birthday on the third of February. The manor has a wall around the grounds. Its a place where several of us are familiar."

"I could lead a team," Narcissa offered, "as could Kingsley and Tonks as they've raided the manor often enough."

Kingsley looked affronted for a moment, but Tonks laughed outright. "You're little Malf's godfather, aren't you, Severus?" she asked.

"I am," he inclined his head. "And I know that the manor's natural defenses are... formidable."

Draco snickered, "I warned you about the rose bushes."

"Rose-?" began Ginny, but she was silenced by a single look from Hermione's lover.

He bit out, rather formally, "How would you feel with barbed, poisoned thorns in your arse spreading venom through your body and your fingers are going numb?"

The whole Order began to chuckle but Narcissa stopped them, "Now, Severus, everyone does things the first time they meet Ogden's hundred and seventy five year..."

The chuckles grew to outright laughter. Hermione glanced to Severus, hoping that he wasn't too irritated. Instead, she observed him putting his hands up in defeat mockingly, relinquishing the laughter all to Narcissa. For not the first time, Hermione wondered if he has been truthful that he had not been involved with the blonde.

Wait...

He had never said that he hadn't slept with Narcissa.

Fuck.

What are you doing, Hermione? Meeting about saving the world going on...

"Thank you for that humorous interlude, Malfoys," she interjected, managing to sound droll while panicking inside. "Next item then: it has been mentioned that chores aren't being done and I personally saw Captain Weasley cleaning a toilet on the second floor this morning. Don't slack off, guys. We are all responsible for this house and keeping the peace. Any other announcements? Ron, would you like to comment on the firearm progress?"

Ron shook his head, "I don't have much to say, excepting thank you to those who helped with the holsters. They're working great. Thanks."

"All right. Anything else?"

Hannah spoke up, "A game of Monopoly is going to be played after dinner followed by Tomorrow Never Dies, a Pierce Brosnan James Bond because we obviously can't watch Timothy Dalton, Lazenby or Connery without a fight."

"Thank you, Hannah," Hermione smiled. "You're doing a great job as event coordinator."

"Tomorrow afternoon, after lunch," said Dr. Atwell, "I'm going to be teaching the first of the basic first aid classes. Padma and Narcissa are going to be helping and showing you the charms while I show you how to do them manually."

"Thank you, Dr. Atwell," nodded Hermione. "Thank you again for taking your captivity so well."

The group was easy to laugh this afternoon, to Hermione's delight and when she ended the meeting, they splintered into comfortable groups to do various chores or strategizing or to work at the firing range.

As Hermione finished schlepping her sodden laundry into the clothes dryer, Severus loomed behind her intimately, kissing at her neck gently, "Want to get away for a while?"

"Where did you have in mind?" she chuckled, putting in a dryer sheet and shutting the door.

He wrapped his arms around her chest and purring in her ear, "Grocery shopping."

Hermione twisted away, laughing, "You're so romantic."

"It was Miss Weasley's turn to go grocery shopping and I found her lying on the sofa ill and forbade her from leaving the house. I find myself to be quite chivalric," he commented, pulling Hermione into her bedroom.

"Is chivalric a word?" Hermione mused, peeling off her yoga pants and lying them over the made bed. As she eyed the elastic comfort of the pants while pulling on a pair of denims, a question came to mind and she blurted it out before it was fully fleshed, "Do you want children?"

"Pardon?" Severus choked, his back to Hermione as he selected a shirt for her from the closet. He recovered quickly, though, and handed over the red top. "Did I hear you correctly?"

Hermione shrugged, changing her bra, "I just thought of it. Honestly, I've had millions of those type of questions running through my head today."

"And why is that?" Severus asked carefully, doing up the buttons on Hermione's shirt for her gently.

"I suppose its because I know that the war is going to be ending soon and I'm unsure of what happens after," she explained, kissing him on the stubbled jaw in thanks when her shirt was secure.

Severus calculated for a moment, "You are twenty two?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "And I know my life expectancy. I know that I don't need to be jumping the gun, so to speak, on my life."

Sighing, Severus replied, "And what made you think that I would reply that way?"

"I'm feeling unsure about life in general, so I'm clinging to important questions such as those," she replied, letting him wrap his arms around her. "I don't even think I want children."

"Do you think we are at the point in our relationship where things like that matter?" he asked tenderly, smoothing her hair, his nose against the crown of her head.

She bristled, "I like to think that no matter how superficial the relationship that it is important to know what the other wants out of their life."

"You mistake me," Severus admonished, pulling away to look into her eyes. "I mean only this, Pearl: I want to be with you. Those other things: marriage, children, where to live- they mean nothing to me. I want to be with you."

"So you don't want children?" she impishly remarked, pressing her forehead to his chest, the thin cashmere allowing his heat to come through and warm her.

He shook his head, "Impertinent little thing."

"I love you, Severus," she murmured, rubbing her cheek like a cat against his sternum.

Sighing again, he kissed her head. "I know. And, you know. I love you as well."


	39. Chapter 39

I don't know what's going on with the email updates. I haven't gotten a single review, and while that would be fine with me, it frankly isn't very normal. So, in case you didn't receive the email for the previous chapter with all new content that I put up yesterday, please read it before continuing.

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Comfortably, Hermione drove them to the grocery store, Severus reviewing the list in his hand.

"Do we really eat this much?" he asked, glaring at the list. "This must cost a small fortune every week. Steak? Really?"

"I spoke with Narcissa, Draco and Ginny about the expense of the groceries last week," Hermione replied, switching on the wipers. "After we had that really amazing lobster for Charlie's birthday. Since they're the principal donors of the Order's cash flow, I thought they should have a say over how its spent- Narcissa sold a house to finance us- that's a big sacrifice."

Severus continued to go over the list, written in Molly Weasley's wide, loopy cursive, "And what did they say?"

"Oh," continued Hermione. "They think its good for morale."

"We're alive," he snorted, "and I would think that would be good enough for morale."

Hermione glanced over at him, "Is this how its going to be after the war- you're going to be the penny pincher?"

"I hardly think that a touch of frugality-"

"Its all right. I'll spend enough for the both of us," she replied flippantly.

Severus eyed her from the passenger's seat, "You're really taking this future thing seriously today."

"I warned you that I was in an odd mood," Hermione shrugged, flipping her blinker a little more forcefully than strictly necessary. "You asked me to come with you on your own volition."

"I suppose I did," he replied. "I asked for it. Let us then get it out of the way before we get back to the house. I would not relish speaking of my personal life in front of the whole world."

Hermione goggled, "You want to plan out our whole post-war life in the grocer's? Where would I even start?"

They pulled into a parking spot and left the warmth of the car, pulling their collars closer to their chins. As Severus selected a pair of carts for them to pilot he said, "Well, we would start with the day after the battle, when everything is clear and you can do as you please."

She didn't have to think, "I've got to go apologize to my parents in Australia. They're going to be so angry with me. Thank God that all my grandparents are dead- they would have thought their kids had died..."

"They'll forgive you," Severus replied flippantly. "They love you to distraction."

After delivering her order of four pounds each of roast beef, ham and cheddar cheese, Hermione looked back at him, "And how would you know?"

"I've met Wendell and Monica," he smirked, moving his cart to load up with three loaves of white bread and a loaf each of wheat, rye and oat nut.

For not the first time that day, Hermione's jaw dropped, "What- I mean- how, when?"

"I checked on them this past summer," he replied casually. "Your charms were very good. I located them quite easily." She began to turn red with anger but he quelled her easily, "I did not tell you until I believed them to be out of danger- it is unlikely that you will encounter Riddle before our final confrontation with him. They will not be in danger by you knowing that they are safe."

"Why?" she asked, still angry, but tentatively listening to his reasoning and letting it process.

Smiling for real, Severus explained, "I thought I made it clear to you that I've had feelings for you since our time in Paris. I went to Sydney, found the Wilkins' practice and had a cavity filled, although I had never done it before."

"You got a filling for me?" Hermione asked, beginning to smile. He shrugged and she lobbed a grapefruit at his head, which he caught. "I can't believe it. How are they? Did they look happy?"

"They were tan and fit," he reported. "And in good health, it seemed. Although, the filling hurt a bit."

She laughed, shaking her head as she filled her cart with apples, bananas and romaine lettuce. "You've just made my post-war life much easier, Severus. Although I wish you would have told me sooner, I thank you."

As he hefted a ten pound bag of potatoes in each hand, Severus smiled at her again, "Do you think you would want to stay in Australia indefinitely?"

"I've only been there once, but I rather liked it. It was warm and I detest the cold," she shrugged, squeezing a tomato to determine freshness. "But I don't know if my parents want to go back to England or not. I'll probably want to stay close-ish to them."

Severus shook his head at the tomatos, but showed her a display of fresh asparagus, "I rather liked New Zealand."

"Never been," Hermione commented idly. "Where do you want to be?"

He shrugged gallically, "I don't really care as long as I can sell or demolish Spinner's End. I'd rather not go back to live there again. I have less than amusing stories from my childhood there."

"So, do you think that I should try to stay near to my parents?" Hermione worried her lip between her teeth.

Severus was quiet for a few moments as he piled bottles of juice into his cart, "I think," he began diplomatically, "that your parents will want you to do what makes you most happy."

"And Britain is my home," sighed Hermione, checking off the juice from the list with a tiny pencil. "I like America well enough, and its more convenient with everything being open all the time, but I miss home."

"I have never particularly felt at home in one place or another, so wherever you choose, I'll be fine," he furrowed his brow, "Why is this kind more expensive than that kind?"

Hermione took the packets of brightly colored drink mix from him, "Is this your way of saying I've had enough of this conversation?"

"Partly. Also, why is this large pitcher coming through the wall? Would that not contaminate the beverage?"

The bill was astronomical, of course, and the car was heavily weighed down with the weight of the food and sundries. Hermione was careful taking corners on the way home- the shocks were depressed so heavily.

As she opened the door, Hermione yelled up the stairs, "Come on, groceries to be put away!"

The twins, Charlie, Dean and Draco thundered down the stairs in their stocking feet, chatting the whole way.

"Perhaps you can enlighten us, Granger," Malfoy began smoothly, retrieving his shoes from the rack under the stairs and sitting to put them on. "I say that Coca Cola is the superior choice, but Charlie is adamant that Pepsi is the winner. Which did you buy?"

Ten eyeballs swiveled to look at Hermione impatiently, "I actually bought Cola, the store brand."

And immediate outcry took place and when Severus stepped through the door with the first load of groceries, he was bewildered and confused.

"Severus," Charlie began, "is Pepsi or is Pepsi not the best soda?"

More waspishly than he should have he barked back, "I prefer the lemon-lime variety."

The argument roared around Hermione's head as she heard Ginny's small voice mumble her name from behind her, "Could I talk with you?"

Hermione smiled generously, still laughing at the cola debate as she turned to Ginny, "Of course- professionally or personally?"

"Both," Ginny quivered. "Could we go out?"

Furrowing her dark brows together in concern, Hermione caught Severus' attention, "We're going to go out," she mouthed.

Severus extracted himself from the conversation, half on Charlie's side and rooting for Pepsi and the other half debating the other options. "Where are you going?"

"Starbucks or something," Ginny answered, opening the coat closet and retrieving her wrap.

Pulling her wool coat back over her shoulders, tiny flakes of snow still clinging to the shoulders, Hermione asked, "Would you like me to bring you something back?"

Silkily, Severus met Ginny's eyes and them let them drift to Hermione's, "If you would allow me to accompany you as Miss Weasley is feeling ill?"

Ginny began to protest, pausing with her scarf mid-wrap, but thought the better of it and acquiesced. "Thank you, Severus. I'm just going to start the other car, all right?"

"We'll follow in a moment," he replied, talking his coat from its hanger again, and a warm knit cap for Hermione. After Ginny had closed the door behind herself, letting a blast of chilly air into the house, Severus continued. "She's with child, is she not?"

The blood drained from Hermione's face, but she quickly recovered, "Holy fuck," she whispered. "How could you tell? I mean, I don't know, but she's been so sensitive and clingy lately- do you really think so?"

"You shouldn't go out again without something on you had. You'll catch your death yet, little one," Severus nodded sharply, tugging the cap over Hermione's curls, smoothing them over her shoulders as he went, "She is likely about to confess."

"How long have you suspected?" Hermione gaped, leaning against the stairs for support, the treads against her back and shoulders.

He shrugged gallically and scribbled their destinations on their message boards, "I suppose it's the look about her and the sickness. I've been wondering where my nausea potion has gotten to- and she looks exactly like a puffskein about to reproduce."

Giggling, Hermione retorted, "You aught not tell her she looks like a puffskein."

"I would do no such thing," he scoffed, opening the door for Hermione. "Just pretend to be surprised when she tells you."

"I'm not sure this is a good thing," wondered Hermione out loud, "She's not going to want to relinquish her role in the war."

"Of course not," Severus confirmed, their shoes crunching over the snow and to the driveway, passing the group of men going to and from the Volvo. "Best to let her continue and hopefully we can find a way to lock her in a closet when the time comes for action."

"You're evil," Hermione laughed, sliding into the back seat of the Volkswagen with Ginny. When Severus got into the driver's seat she continued, "To the coffee, driver."

Ginny was quiet until they reached the main road away from the Fake Colonial, and she sputtered once and fell silent. Hermione let her stew over how to tell her Commanding officer that she was pregnant with the chosen one's child and that she wasn't going to back down from the war.

Hermione cleared her throat conspicuously. Severus turned down the radio to listen to his lover's pronouncement, "So, Severus thinks that we should let you continue to train for the battle even though you're pregnant and that when the time really comes, we'll stun you and put you in a broom closet, but I told him that I didn't think you'd like that."

A strange silence overtook the vehicle and Severus found himself wanting to turn up the radio to escape the awkward estrogen laced silence.

"Well," Ginny hiccoughed at last, turning to look at Severus in the rearview. "I would be quite mad."

Hermione blushed prudishly and poked at the upholstery between them, "So you are? Pregnant, that is?"

Ginny nodded quickly, "I don't know what this means for me- and the Order that is. I don't want to tell anyone yet."

"No one has noticed," Severus reassured from the driver's seat, "save those present."

Hermione laughed, "And not even I noticed- he had to tell me. Well, maybe Luna thinks something, but Luna's...well, just Luna."

Her soft brown eyes beginning to well up with unshed tears, Ginny wrapped herself up with her arms and whispered, "I'm glad."

"Listen, Gins," Hermione explained, "as your commander, I don't know what to think yet, but as your friend, I'm stoked. This is amazing."

Ginny turned her gaze to her best friend doefully, "Really?" she sniffed, swiping under her nose with her sleeve.

"Really," Hermione replied enthusiastically, "I mean, imagine it- a baby, what a wonderful thing! And once Riddle is taken care of, you and me, we can get do all of this together and it'll be fine. It'll be perfect."

Beginning to look a little less terrified, Ginny asked, "Seriously? You'd do that? I mean, Mum would kill me if I was too far away from her."

Hermione didn't know it before hand, but as she spoke she realized that her words were completely truthful, "I would do anything for you. I'm totally stoked to spend my post-Riddle years with you and the baby, if that's what you'd let me do."

Severus cleared his throat from the front seat.

"I mean, I like you too, Severus, but you don't have the sheer cuteness that a Ginny/Harry baby could have," Hermione laughed.

Ginny joined in, close to joyously and added, "You can come too, if you'd like. We'll have a commune- invite Malfoy and Luna... the whole gang." She chuckled for a moment, "On second thought..."

"I think not, Miss Weasley. I can hardly stand to sleep in the same room with Draco now," Severus answered. "But I am of the opinion that Hermione makes good decisions and I will support her in them, and by proxy, you. But be warned that you do not receive Hermione without the bonus surprise of me."

"A little white fence and a little messy, ginger baby and us," Ginny whispered, looking over at Hermione with grateful eyes. "Are you really going to help me change nappies, Professor?"

His face was amusing, but he softened and whispered, loud enough for both women in the back seat to head, "The things I do for you, Hermione."

They relaxed into peals of giggles, imagining Severus holding up a tiny baby's ankle and looking distastefully at the substance in its pants, "Perhaps it would be best if it was just you and me," Hermione laughed.

Severus looked sourly back at the women. This was not what he was expecting when they had started down this line of conversation this afternoon. Bollocks.

"Do you have to be the commander now that tells me that I'm totally out of this now?"

Regretfully, Hermione confirmed.

"Balls," Ginny swore.

Severus agreed.


	40. Chapter 40

Wow... got a lot of flack from the last chapter. I loath to do it, but I feel like I need to remind you that we're all supposed to be acting like adults and giving _constructive _criticism. Hermione, like all of us, is learning as she goes through life. She doesn't have all the answers and she's going to make a few bad choices along the way.

Remember, like Severus, I never promised a story filled with roses and sunshine. There will be some of you that are disappointed with the flow of this story and the conclusion of it.

Basically: tough shit. Get over it.

And stop leaving mean reviews. They make me sad.

Oh yeah, also, I'm sorry for the delay.

0=0=0=0

Inside the warm ochre and burgundy cocoon of the local Starbucks, Ginny, Severus and Hermione sipped unspeakingly on their hot chocolate, espresso and caramel macciato, respectively, and stared at their shoes, or in Severus' case moodily out the window.

"I feel the need to clarify," Ginny spoke up suddenly, making Hermione choke a bit on her sugary drink. After her friend had cleared her throat, she continued, "What do you mean, you'll be there for me and the baby? I mean...that's a big commitment."

Hermione blushed crimson, "I do admit that I spoke without thinking- especially to consult with the man I'm rather keen on spending the foreseeable future with."

"I was a bit irritated," Severus bit out, swallowing a sip of the bitter coffee that he didn't really like. It was fitting for his mood, though- deep, bitter and saturnine. "Rather an understatement."

"Ok," grumbled Hermione. "I spoke too quickly. What would you be comfortable with? I didn't even think that you might want to go it alone."

She shook her head vehemently, her hair making pale licks of flame around her jaw, "No way. I mean, I will go it alone if I have to- I _love _this baby. Really love it. But if I don't have to, of course, I would love help."

Severus spoke up lightly, running the tip of his finger around the rim of his now empty paper cup, "Might I suggest an option?"

Blanching, Hermione looked over at her lover that she had badly jilted only moments before. Ginny gave him the go ahead, though and he continued.

"There are many ways that Miss Granger could be of service to you without over stepping the bounds of your motherhood," he said, his back ram-rod straight, his formal wording indicative of exactly how irritated at Hermione he was. "She could stay with you for a period of time after the baby is born, then one party or the other could move to another home in close proximity to the other to facilitate privacy and independence as needed. Another thought is that a semi-detached pair of homes could be procured and residence can be taken up in those."

Ginny got up gingerly and sat down on the arm of Severus' chair, knowing that she was pushing too far into his personal space, but continuing. Putting her slim, white hand on his shoulder and ignoring his offensive shrug away from her, she said quietly, "Please don't be angry with Hermione. That headstrong love for the people in her life is one of the reasons you love her. Don't argue, Severus, its not becoming. You know that Malfoy is habitually late and you choose to have a relationship with him- and you're not mad at him when he's twenty minutes tardy."

Irritated sigh.

"Am I not allowed several moments of pique?" he resigned, looking for the first time over at his lover, who was doggedly staring at the ground and- what was that- was she holding back tears? Ginny took a liberty far above her station and poked him sharply between the ribs. Grudgingly, he nodded, "I suppose it would be poor form to not let all be mended."

"Quite so," Ginny giggled gently, mocking his formality. "Let's get back. I promised Hannah that I'd go over a packing charm with her that she's having issues with."

"Is this your way of changing the subject, Miss Weasley?" Severus chided gently, taking Hermione's hand over the arm of his chair. She smiled absurdly and sipped her beverage. "We'll be off then. I must prepare to return to England as well."

0=0=0=0

With a splash, Hermione set the last of the plates into the sink where Draco was scrubbing the last of the lasagna from the pans. Severus was gone already- he and Bill had portkeyed away solemnly at a quarter after five- and she was nearly sick with worry.

"Need a distraction?" asked Jesse, dropping a fistful of forks into the soapy water, splashing a few suds up on a disgruntled Draco.

She smiled, pulling down the sleeves of her sweater and covering her hands. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well," he smiled, moving away from the sink and to the counter where he poured two cups of coffee. "I know that its a little low on the list of priorities, really, its not even on the list, but I'd really like to try using a, you know, a wand. If that's OK"

"That sounds nice," she confirmed, taking the coffee and warming her fingers around the mug. "We all need distractions every once in a while and its been one of those days."

"Great!" Jesse exclaimed, his dark bangs whipping into his eyes in excitement. "I'm really excited about it- I spent hours as a child pointing my finger at a light switch and trying to turn it on."

"Did you ever have any success?" asked Hermione, furrowing her brow.

He laughed, "No, none. But I'm pretty sure that I can make fans reverse their spinning."

"All muggles have at least a tiny bit of magic inside them," she explained. "It isn't uncommon that children, especially, can display rare bits of magic."

"What do magical children do?" asked Jesse, adding another spoonful of sugar to his coffee.

Hermione laughed, "I used to blow the faces off of my porcelain dolls when I was mad. I could repair them, though, so my Mum didn't get mad at me. I did it a lot, but they didn't catch any bit of it until I was seven and I repaired a vase when Dad knocked it over and broke it and Mum was very mad. I also could manipulate fire from an early age- my flame charms are legendary."

"Didn't you light Severus' robes on fire with your bluebell flame at a Quidditch game?" asked Draco with a hint of irritability- mostly because his hands were terribly pruned from the dish washing.

Puffing up a bit, she replied, "I did. And, I was a first-year. That's third year magic, at least."

"What was your first magic, Draco?" asked Dr. Atwell, fully at attention.

He answered immediately, with more than just a hint of smugness, "I levitated my blocks at age seven months."

"Show off," muttered Hermione. "It is true that pureblooded wizards tend to show earlier signs of magic."

Draco polished his fingernails on his rather expensive sweater, a far cry from his cherished Weasley garment.

Hermione snorted, "Its probably evolutionary- pureblooded children need to show magic early or their families assume they're squibs and chuck 'em out on their ear."

With no defense, Draco went back to washing dishes.

"So, how will I know which wand is right for me, if any?" Atwell asked, his dark eyes bright and engaged. "Dean told me about how wands choose people."

Considering, Hermione finally replied, "I think there's a great deal of manipulation in that one. Yes- wands do work best when they're well matched with their holder, but I have wielded many, many wands and have found that intention and raw power really have as much to do with it as anything. My original wand was vine wood and dragon heartstring and ten inches and three quarters with a pretty flowered pattern on the hilt."

Setting her current wand on the counter between them, she continued, "Now, I'm not so attached to a wand. This is just the one that I carry on me, but I also have two spares that work all right too. As you see, this wand is pretty much the exact opposite of what I had before: its oak, nine and a half inches with a core of phoenix feather and very plain."

Jesse's finger tips hovered over the hilt of the dark wood wand on the counter, "May I?"

Hermione lit up, "First, examine your feelings- is there an overwhelming compulsion to pick up this wand? Draco- give me yours."

Draco, who was hovering over Hermione's shoulder anyway, pulled his beech wand and laid it next to Hermione's saying, "Do you feel the same thing about my wand, or is the feeling different?"

Fingers twitching again, Dr. Atwell furrowed his brow in concentration, "I actually feel like I should pick up Draco's."

"Don't worry," encouraged Draco. "I'm not terribly attached to that wand."

Reverently rolling up his oxford sleeves, Jesse let his hand trail gently over the wand from hilt to tip. "My fingers tingled a little."

"That's good," whispered Hermione. "Pick it up when you're ready."

Letting himself show a rare bit of excitement, Draco crowded closer, putting his long fingered hands on Hermione's shoulders. She smiled, willing Draco's wand to respond to this remarkable young man.

Dr. Atwell truly had flourished in the confines of the Fake Colonial. Always a bit of a social outcast, Jesse had confessed that most of his time in school and at University had been spent as a self imposed sequestered monk with a silence vow playing World of Warcraft and various other console video games chock full of magic.

He was visibly distraught when a very feeble dribble of mud colored sparks issued from the tip of Draco's wand.

Grinning wryly in self deprecation, he pushed it back across the counter to Draco. "I guess this is why we call me a muggle."

"You could try some of the others, if you like," offered Hermione.

"Hello, all," sang Ginny, striding into the kitchen. "Might I commandeer the good Doctor for a little demonstration of how you're supposed to work these?"

In her hand was the familiar Nintendo Zapper gun. She held it up and squeezed the trigger, letting off a little 'pang'.

"Wow!" Jesse exclaimed, momentarily diverted from his quest for a wand. "Where did you get this?"

Ginny smiled broadly, "George found it at a second hand shop. He had read that the game Duck Hunt might be good target practice for us. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

He shrugged, grinning at the red head. "Hermione was willing to let me test out a few wands. She said that even muggles have a bit of magic. I was sort of hoping that I would have just a little bit."

"Try mine," Ginny blurted impulsively. "I mean, why don't you? I've had very different results based on what wand I've used."

Unsheathing it, she laid it across Jesse's open palm. An odd sort of exchange flew between them and Ginny took a step back, almost unconciously.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. "This is different. Really different."

Wide eyed, Ginny nodded. "I felt it too. Like... I'm not sure what it was like."

"Try waving it," suggested Hermione. "You'll probably feel pretty stupid, but trust me."

Atwell took a deep, fortifying breath and closed his eyes before raising the wand to shoulder height and whipping it downward, tip flexing as it moved through the air. A veritable fountain of blue and purple sparks issued from the tip of Ginny's wand.

"That's a ten inch poplar wand with a hypogriff bone core," choked Ginny, "and it seems as if it has chosen you."

Flabbergasted, Draco croaked, "Are you sure..."

Picking up where Draco had trailed off, Hermione finished, "I mean, aren't there wizard training schools in the States? Because that was real. Real magic. I'm serious."

Placing the wand back on the counter, he backed away a fraction, "Maybe I'm just really good at sparkles, like you're good at fire, Hermione?"

Ginny barked out a laugh, "No. I promise you that was full blown wizard magic."

"I think I'm going to hurl," mumbled Jesse, stumbling backwards from the counter.

Draco nodded, turning on the tap to fill a tumbler of water for Dr. Atwell. "That happens sometimes when raw bursts of untrained magic are used."

Grabbing the wand back from the counter, Ginny gave a little flick, frowning, and a tiny phial of opalescent potion landed in her hand. "Here, nausea relief potion."

"Thanks," he gulped as he unstopped the medicine.

Taking the phial from Dr. Atwell, Hermione inquired, "Did that work?"

At his quizzical expression, Ginny extrapolated, "Potions really only work on magic folk and muggle remedies aren't a great thing for witches to take."

"Well, I don't feel the need to spew Molly's excellent lasagna all over the kitchen any more, so I would say yes, it worked," confirmed Atwell. "Is that definitive proof that I'm a... you know? Or is there something else we should do to confirm or deny?"

After exchanging a look with Hermione, Ginny placed the Nintendo gun in Jesse's hand, the cord trailing to the tile floor. "I don't really know, but I'm probably right, that you shouldn't use any magic for a while. Why don't you just come on into the sitting room and play Duck Hunt with us for a while?"

Somewhat tersely, Jesse accepted the beloved weapon of his childhood and let the diminutive redhead steer him into the sitting room.


	41. Chapter 41

Thank you all for such a lovely reception back! I could make excuses for my absence, but they would be simply that.

Could I ask a favor? Please? Could someone do some fanart for me? I'm desperate for some and I'm just not the artist I want to be. I can do collage via computer quite well, but other than that... I'm sunk. Maybe a short-haired Hermione and a brunette Draco?

Puppy Eyes.

Anyway, enjoy the chappie. Expect another one by Tuesday or so, and don't get greedy now that I've updated twice in as many days. The next chapter should go a little faster than this one, which is mostly filler :/

And, as always, the place for extra content is thebuescherproject (simply cut, paste and google.) under the tab cleverly entitled, "In The Ashes". I put up some new stuff today.

0=0=0=0=0=0=0

Hermione rolled over in her sleep, rays from the small transom window above her bed slanting across her sleep flushed face.

"Mm, Severus," she mumbled, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "When did you get back?"

He raised one long fingered hand to her hair and began to work out the tangles, "Around four this morning. Bill was able to go upstairs to his sleeping wife and I had no intention of going to the room that I share with a muggle doctor, a dragon handler, my godson and a large black man that talks in his sleep when I could just as easily pull back your covers and be here."

"One," stated Hermione, "Don't expect to sleep here every night- at least until the war is over. Wouldn't want the troops to think I favor you."

Severus interjected as he kissed up the side of her neck, "But you do favor me."

"In ways," she admitted, letting his hands begin a familiar roaming pattern on her stomach and ribs.

After biting the tender junction of her neck and shoulder, he whispered into the pink shell of her ear, "And what's the second thing?"

"Later," she sassed, pressing her hips back into the cradle of his pelvis.

Hissing, Severus' long fingers pressed forcefully into the softness of her waist, "I'm going to have you now."

Hermione nodded, twisting her jaw to the side to let him pull her hair back and away from her face.

Although Severus had woken her as early as six thirty in the morning, the couple did not emerge from the small bedroom off the kitchen until a quarter past ten, when Hermione finally convinced him that it was getting more than a little conspicuous.

"You must get dressed," she commanded, buttoning up her wool cardigan and looking over the still naked man on top of the rumpled covers. "And make the bed."

Glaring at her, he lazily draped his forearm over his eyes, "I did not sleep last night but the mere two and a half hours until you woke up. I will not be moved from this very spot."

Hermione snorted, "I'll have all the women come in while you sleep and look at your fine arse."

"Hermione, neither God nor Riddle could move me from this very spot," he proclaimed. "Although, a very, very strong cup of coffee with espresso shots in it and a very long shower could possibly persuade me."

His lover smiled, scooting his legs to the side so that she could cover him to the waist with the duvet. "One shot or two?"

"Don't be stingy," he whinged. "Its not attractive."

"I take it as a four espresso shot morning?" asked Hermione, sliding her feet into her shoes.

Severus smiled. "You are an angel of mercy."

She kissed his forehead at his dark hair line before leaving the room and squinting at the light of the January mid-morning.

"He is still asleep?" Narcissa asked, sitting at the counter with her own steaming paper cup of morning beverage. Her name, at least her code name, was scrawled across the side in permanant marker: Isobel.

Hermione nodded, opening the refrigerator to retrieve a carton of milk. "They came in around four."

"Dromeda and I went to Starbucks this morning. His coffee, with four shots, is under stasis on the table," she replied, gesturing.

"He'll be quite grateful. He nearly promised me his fortune for a cup of coffee. You won't mind if I take him up on that, will you?" joked Hermione as she poured hot coffee from the carafe into her mug.

Narcissa laughed, "I assure you, my dear, I have no need of Severus' monies. You may take the credit."

Hermione's laughter joined the older woman's, "I thank you."

"You are most welcome."

"Might I inquire about your husband?" asked Hermione, spilling a little milk into her coffee and stirring it briskly.

Narcissa put a slim ribbon across the page of her open book and set it aside. "I communicated with him last night. He is trying to figure out a way to lure us to the Manor the first week of February."

"Thank you. But, really, I am asking how he is faring with Riddle and without you and Draco. And how he is without you two in general. And how you are. Etectera." Hermione asked carefully.

"I miss him. He misses us," replied Narcissa whistfully. "I know he does, although he does not show it. He was punished severely for Draco's defection and Severus' 'death'. He has recovered, though, and told me last night that he was preparing the manor in secret to act as a field hospital."

"Very kind of him," replied Hermione. "I do appreciate any and all sacrifices that he is making. I hope that whatever influence I have after the war will be used well to show our world what he's done for it."

Narcissa snorted and retorted, "Lucius does what Lucius needs to do to preserve his hide and those of his family. Draco and I defected, so he will do whatever it takes to make sure that we emerge unscathed and on the right side of the war. I asked him to ready the Chalet in the Dolomites as a safe house, but he was quite put out. Apparently, he was still irritated that I sold the villa in Piedmont."

"Severus said that it was lovely there," mused Hermione.

Again, Narcissa made a noise of irritation, "He would. He used it more than we did- he regularly spent his summer holiday there. There are stains from his damnable experiments on the dining room marble that I could not get out to save my life."

Her eyes wide, Hermione muttered, "I didn't know."

"You don't need to," snapped Narcissa.

Hermione's head whipped up and she started to glare at the blonde.

"You mistake me," she continued, more gently. "I only mean that in your situation, the past is not only irrelevant but also unnecessary. He loves you, Hermione, and you him. One can see these things. But you must also make the most of your time with him right now, and even if you did not know where he summered, he still has chosen you. I wager you will soon enough know more of Severus than his oldest friends."

Hermione slipped her hand over Narcissa's for a brief moment and squeezed, saying, "Thank you."

Taking the coffee, she quietly opened the door to her little room again and placed the cup on the desk with a never spill charm. She stole one more eyeful of her lover with his head buried in the pillows before leaving and heading up the stairs to find Captain Malfoy.

She found him in his cramped shared room with Luna as they packed his rucksack for Spain. Knocking on the open door frame, Hermione alerted them to her presence. "Knock, knock."

"Morning, Commander," Draco nodded, placing a neatly folded sweater into his bag.

"How are you two this fine day?" replied Hermione, sitting down informally on Severus' still made and cold bed.

Luna sighed. "I told Draco to pack earlier, but he did not listen."

"Men are like that," Hermione whispered back conspiratorially. "You're all ready to go?"

She nodded, "I finished yesterday. Dr. Atwell helped me. As the only woman, he thought I would be best equipped to carry along the emergency kits."

"Bit sexist," Draco grunted sourly.

"I don't think so," replied Luna. "He just knows that women tend to be more put together and think more clearly in times of emergency."

Draco scoffed, "I don't know if I would ever accuse you of thinking clearly."

"Malfoy," Hermione warned, moving to get up from her position on Severus' bed.

Waving her off with one slim hand, Luna placated, "Draco teases me about my head being with the Goobalahs, but he'll be glad when I have burn paste and not Dean."

"As I recall, Thomas was quite adept at healing charms," mused Hermione. "We're going to have a brief for your team after the meeting at one this afternoon. Are the portkeys ready? No, don't answer that, Luna, I know they are."

"Would you like me to braid your hair?" Luna asked mistily, turning her large, pale eyes to Hermione.

She stared back at Luna for a moment, then shrugged, "Thanks?"

As Hermione shifted to sit on the floor and Luna took a seat on Severus' bed, Draco said, "Her scalp scritchies are simply divine, Granger, but have a habit of putting me to sleep."

"I like having my hair braided," replied Hermione. "It stays out of my way much better than just in a bun or ponytail. I like your hair when it's tied back in a ponytail, Malfoy."

Draco shook his head irritably, "It's not a ponytail, Granger. It's a _queue_."  
"It _is _tied with a bow," mentioned Luna, appropriating Draco's hairbrush and beginning at the ends of Hermione's mane.

He huffed, slamming his case closed with as much force and dignity that he could muster, "It _is _a thin, black ribbon. Knotted. Not a bow."

"Now if you will excuse me," mocked Hermione, puffing out her chest, "I've got to go stare in the mirror for a quarter hour and look at my hair line."

Luna and Hermione dissolved into giggles of unbridled mirth as Draco stood in the doorway and stared.

He finally said, "I really must be off to look at the papers for Senora Morales. When you two are done being eight year old girls, you know where to find me." And he shut the door with a snap.

When Luna had finished and secured the fat braid with one of Draco's hair ribbons (and giggled again as they did so), Hermione caught up with Charlie and Dean on the back patio smoking and double checked their readiness for Spain. Feeling fortified, she went back to her room and poked Severus in the ribs, so as to ascertain his state of living.

"I am awake, you horrible wench," he muttered murderously. "Am I being kicked out?"

"I'm afraid so, my dear. Unless you'd like to be stepped on while I make my wall into a giant set of agenda pages. And listen to Ernie and Tonks go through listings for apartments," she taunted, twirling her permanent marker between two fingers. "But no one is in your room, should you like to nap there."

"I shant," Severus replied crossly.

Hermione sat down, her back within the curve of his belly and pulled up knees, "I do have coffee for you- four shots."

"Gods," he yawned, "I'd forgotten."

He took an appreciative gulp, sighing.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much," he confirmed, squeezing at Hermione's thigh gently.

Hermione pressed on, "I take it there was no problem securing the diadem?"

"None at all, simply the time it took us to get there using a blasted automobile," grumbled Severus, wiping at his eyes with the back of his palm as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "I hate portkeys, but anything is better than driving a tin can at night through Northumberland."

"Poor darling," Hermione crooned, picking up the trousers that were hanging over the back of her desk chair and handing them over.

She kicked off her shoes and stepped carefully up on the bed, shrinking and moving the diagrams and lists she needed to save to the wall behind the desk. In her wide, looping hand she scrawled a large _January 12 _and so on until her last _February 1_, a Thursday.

"What are you doing?" asked Severus, raking his hands through his hair, which had grown to over his eyebrows.

Spitting the cap of the marker from between her teeth, Hermione replied, "A schedule. There are so many things going on, I need a schedule, and a large one. See- today, Friday, January 12- I have an all Order meeting at 1pm, a Spanish Team meeting directly after, they portkey out at four in the afternoon. After that, there's a meeting after dinner at 7:30 with Ron to go over the firearm training progress and that will probably last until I fall asleep or pass out. The latter is more probable."

Severus grit his teeth. "Only a few more weeks."

"I can bear anything for a few weeks. Anything," she asserted, scribbling in the times of her meetings and rendezvous.

"Afternoon, Major," Ernie said cheerfully, striding into Hermione's room casually. "Glad to see you're back in one piece."

"I cannot say the same for you, MacMillian," he replied sourly, sweeping out the door.

"Ignore him," Hermione instructed absently as she continued scribbling. "I usually do."

Ernie swore under his breath, "Easy for you."

"Being a right bat, is he?" asked Tonks, coming in with a kitchen stool in tow. "He just tried to put me on dish duty because my shoe had come untied."

Hermione made no move to defend her surly mate, but went right into the meat of the matter, "We need to sleep at least six people in each apartment, as a worst case scenario. Four comfortable and five or six in a pinch, right?"

"I'm just going to go on craigslist," explained Ernie. "And from there, I'll email the apartment landlord and set up a viewing time, based on the time the team has available in Spain."

Tonks watched on, enraptured. "That one's nice."

"Two bedrooms, one bathroom in a central location with a kitchenette. Not bad. Located in the Centro. You want to look at that one?" asked Ernie.

Pointing at the screen with the back end of her pen, Tonks said, "It's good defensively. See, it's on the top floor with limited exposure to anyone on the street; most of the windows look out and down the hill. No one could get at us unless they were standing on a neighbour's roof. It also has a fifty eight inch flat screen television and DVD player."

"Now we get to why you actually like it," kidded Hermione. "Pick out one more that's good for the Spanish team to look at and then move on to Paris."

"Oohh! That one has a sauna!"

Hermione let her forehead slump against the wall, the thud sounding through the tiny room.


	42. Chapter 42

Ok, everyone. I'm sorry for the delay. It begins like this: when I was seventeen, I was diagnosed with a mild form of cancer. It was kept in check and at times, was in remission. Unfortunately for me, in May, it became apparent that the condition would require treatment in a more radical way than before. On the seventeenth of last month, I underwent surgery and have been on a slow road to recovery since. My prognosis is excellent, as in, I'll probably die from being struck by lightning instead of this cancer. Cancer sounds so negative and terrible, doesn't it? Well, I'm here to tell you that it's not all doom and gloom. It sucks, yeah, but in my case, I'm doing just peachy.

As always, there is extra content on my blog, thebuescherproject.

Please review?

Also, terribly sorry that its shorter than usual... will make up for it!

xxx

"All right everyone," Hermione began, "pipe down, you know the drill. I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to order. Padma?"

As Padma read the minutes from the last meeting, Hermione gently shuffled her note cards into place, glancing down at the headings as she worked. "Kingsley, could I appropriate your hat for the good of the Order?"

The group chuckled and Kingsley handed over his hat with a good natured smile, "I hope to get that back."

"You will," assured Hermione as she dropped the cards in and gave the hat a shake. "In the hat are twenty-five cards with the names of safe houses on them. I want the hat to go around the room and everyone to pick a card. Of course, I cannot impress upon you the importance of revealing to no one, not even your spouse or best friend, where your specific safe house is."

Draco took the hat from Hermione and drew first. "As the officer in charge of the Safe Houses, I will collect all of the cards after they have been drawn. I want you to put your name on the card and give it to me. I will be your secret keeper, along with Commander Granger, and we will be coordinating the reestablishment of the Order should we have to scatter and go into hiding."

"Again," smirked Tonks, taking her card from the hat. She considered the destination and then scribbled her name down.

"Great, thanks everyone," Hermione nodded, watching Ernie give Draco the last card. "Kingsley, your hat?"

The dark skinned man laughed deeply. "I deserve a medal for this hat: battered in service to the Order of the Phoenix."

"Padma, a note that at the completion of the war, Kingsley's hat gets a medal," returned Hermione. "So lets move on to the first order of business. Lieutenant Colonel Weasley, could I get you to come up and explain our rebuilding effort thus far?"

Ron got up off the floor at Hannah's feet and trotted over to stand next to Hermione in front of the fireplace, "I want you to carefully listen to your assignments, yeah?"

"And I'm sure Padma would be so gracious as to make a master list to post in the dining room?" wheedled Hermione, winking at the dark haired girl.

"So, after we beat the shite out of snake-face-"

Tonks screeched from the sofa, "We're coming for you, Moldywart!"

"Thank you, Colonel-" began Ron again.

She replied cheekily, throwing in a wink for good measure, "Any time."

"After we beat him, Commander Granger and I have divided up our force into teams to work on the rebuilding of the Government," Ron glanced over at Hermione to confirm her support. She nodded encouragingly and he continued. "We would like to ask Colonel Tonks to operate as head of Magical Law enforcement. Captain Malfoy and Major Snape have been asked to work on lists of all known Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathisers. Major Snape with me, Colonel Tonks, Kingsley and Privates Bell, Thomas and Abbot, have been assigned to round up and interrogate and if need be, neutralize those threats. For the legislative branch-"

"In the legislative branch of the Ministry, I'd like to ask you, Arthur, to step up as out interim Minister for Magic," Hermione asked quietly, moving to stand by the arm of Arthur's chair. "I cannot think of anyone else that would be better for the position."

Smiling, Arthur laid his hand over Hermione's. "I'd be glad to."

Hermione replied, "Thank you. Sorry, Lieutenant Colonel. Please continue."

"Not a problem, Commander," Ron said, standing taller in his words. He began to pace through the room, letting his words and presence carry him through. "We have very important allies, and more governments that we will need to make touch with during the aftermath of this war. It will be difficult with your other jobs, but I am going to ask a few people to serve as diplomats. Captain Malfoy, Commander Granger thought that you would do especially well as our diplomatic liason with Spain. Colonel Tonks will, if she accepts, take over our relations with America and Canada. Lieutenant Narcissa Malfoy and Warrant Officer Andromeda Tonks, we would like you to go to France as joint envoy."

Her voice quiet, but strong, Hermione began, "I know that these plans seem premature, but I promise you that they are not. Riddle will be taken care of faster than you know and I will not let us fail where the regimes before us have.

She took a steeling breath. "Dumbledore before us was a good strategist. He had ideas for offense and defence in his mind that I could only dream about. What he did not have, though, was an exit plan. In order for Britain to be safe from further terror, we must be prepared to put the Government back in place as soon as possible."

After a prolonged silence, Ron continued. "Everyone has a place in post-war Britain. We have to rebuild Hogwart's. We have to return commerce to Diagon Alley and to Hogsmeade."

"When will it be enough?" asked Molly, fairly tearfully.

Hermione's eyes made contact with Severus. She nodded, seeing the question there.

"Molly," began Severus gently, wholly different from his usual tone. "How old is Bill?"

She looked confused, but answered. "Thirty-one."

"And do you still worry about thirty-one year old Bill the same way you worry about twenty year old Ginevra? Will you ever cease to be a mother?" he asked. "This is who and what we are. All of us. We would not have left our homes and our lives to be in America to plot the downfall of the Dark Lord if this life was not what we has each chosen. No matter how long it has been since we have defeated him, we will always be Order Members."

"Well said, Severus," Molly agreed. "I only hope that I don't have dreams of the Government forgetting their lunch like I do my babies."

More than pleased, Hermione turned their attention back to the meeting. "At four in the afternoon, the Spanish liason will be portkeying out. I'd like to dismiss everyone but the Spain team, Tonks, Ron, Severus, Bill and Ginny. I'm sure that Charlie wouldn't mind leading a little two mile run for the firearm team..."

Charlie laughed, louder than he had meant to. "You've got to be joking."

"Ten minutes and meet back here, all right?" Hermione smiled, winking at Charlie. She left the sitting room and followed the others as they filed into the kitchen to gather round a kettle of tea.

Ginny grumbled as she pulled out a plate and thunked it on the table. A tin of shortbread biscuits followed, making a similar noise.

"Want to tell me why you're mutilating our tea?" Hermione asked drolly over the counter.

Ginny glared. "I would do anything for the Order, Hermione."

"Good," she replied, ducking her head back into the newspaper.

A slim hand all but crumpled the pages as Ginny hissed, "I wish I could be mad at you for making me Dr. Atwell's personal tutor and taking me away from the action."

Hermione smirked. "I'm sure that I've my first year charm's book with me, should you have the need. Unfortunately, I must be getting back to the dining room to meet with my Spanish team. Would you be a dear and bring along the tea and biscuits?"

As she turned the corner, she heard Ginny let loose a little scream. Hermione continued to smirk.

"My Godfather has rubbed off on you, Granger," drawled Draco, looking up from the map spread out on the dining room table.

Hermione took a seat next to him, "Is this the part where I tell you to sod off?"

"Something like that," he rejoined. "I've plotted key locations on these maps, for Paris, Grenada, Munich, Athens and Venice. Marked with the little monopoly house sign is where the apartments are located- that is, the ones we want to look at. The stars are the offices of the Governements and the airports, train stations and tube stations nearest both are clearly marked with their own symbols. It will make for a quick, efficient evacuation if it becomes necessary."

Running her fingers over the parchment maps, Hermione indicated a few sentences in the lower left most corners, "What do these mean? Friends are friends except enemies are not?"

"Those are the secret kept phrases to let you into each safe house. It's encoded to only be visible to one with the phoenix mark. Bill assured me that it will be invisible and undetectable to one that doesn't carry it. We tested it out on Dr. Atwell," Malfoy explained.

"Clever," Hermione replied and looked up and around. "Everyone here? Good. Let's get started- Malfoy?"

Draco stood up and captured the attention of those in the room. "Right, now, this is a pure logistical and diplomatic mission. We do not expect to encounter any enemy attack during this mission. We will also not engage the enemy. Our primary objectives, in order of importance, are securing diplomatic immunity from the Spanish Government, securing a safe house and three, recruiting any military or support aid they are willing to give."

"Is it likely that we will accomplish all three objectives?" asked Charlie.

Taking her cue from Draco, Hermione answered, "The first two will be relatively easy. The third usually comes with strings, especially from the Spanish. If those first two are completed I will consider the mission to be a success. Other countries are far more likely to offer military and personnel support, like Germany and France."

"If we run into any problems, Commander Granger will be notified via a charmed pendant. There will be an immediate response of some variety," Draco assured, "be it a diplomatic issue or one where we encounter enemy fire."

Luna held out a small pile of bracelets, "I have also thought to equip us with emergency portkey bracelets."

"Great idea," mused Hermione. "I can assume the portkey to Grenada is ready?"

Luna nodded and Dean cut in, "And we've secured a car so that we don't have to steal one."

"Avoiding Grand Theft Auto is useful," she replied dryly. "I'll be back in twenty minutes when the portkey leaves. Any unfinished packing, I suggest you tackle quickly."

After leaving the dining room, Hermione sought out Narcissa, who she found in her shared bedroom on the second floor doing a sudoku puzzle. She knocked on the open door and Narcissa greeted her with a smile.

"Come in, Hermione," Narcissa invited warmly. "What brings you to darken my doorway? I'm not in trouble, am I?"

Hermione chuckled, "Narcissa, even if you were to get into trouble, I doubt I would find out about it."

The older woman snorted, "No, I don't suppose you would."

"You know that we've the dinner with the head of the American Wizard's Council tomorrow night, right?" asked Hermione. "The thing is, I haven't anything to wear. I know it seems trivial, but really, I can't go asking for support while looking like a refugee."

Narcissa considered, "I've never been the best at ready making garments- you might want to ask the frivolous Patil twin. She's quite good, I think."

"Oh, great," Hermione whined, just a little. "Last thing I want is a repeat of the Yule Ball..."

One elegantly arched blonde brow asked the question.

"Oh, they tied me to a chair and forced me to have my brows plucked, my hair tamed and my dress altered all while giggling maniacally," Hermione waved off. "In short, it was hell on earth."

"Wish I could help," replied Narcissa wistfully. "But, I can accompany you and provide support and consult."

Hermione beamed.


	43. Chapter 43

Hello, and welcome to chapter 43!

As always, there is extra content on my blog, thebuescherproject. The dress, etc. should be put up some time today.

If anyone can spot the quote in this chapter, you get pretty much every respect point I possess.

Also, I'm having a very hard time with writing at the moment- I've not writer's block, per say, simply writer's constipation. I have the whole story planned out from here, its just sitting down and banging it out that I find difficult at the moment. So, please, be gentle. I did have a lot of fun writing this chapter, though. And, I live in Cincinnati, so no harm on my hometown is meant.

Oh, and of course, multiple points to my beta, Inness, for just being alive.

0=0=0=0=0=0=0

Hermione was very quickly changing her mind as to whether or not she really wanted the American's support. Not because of anything that they had done to her, personally, or that she found fault with their thick, engraved invitation. But because at the moment, she was stripped to her skivvies with Parvati rapid fire changing the color of her dress which was in need of a ruffle-removal spell.

Narcissa, as though she was reading Hermione's mind perfectly, deftly shot a charm at the hem of her black, taffeta gown. Actually, it might have even been a bit of mind reading, from Narcissa's wink. Hermione could not determine whether to be freaked out at her soldier's legilimensy or simply grateful that the offending ruffles were gone.

"I think you're ready," Parvati mused, looking over her victim's body.

Looking into the mirror, Hermione nodded in assent. "Looks rather nice..."

Parvati beamed, and replied royally, "We think so."

"Your hair," Narcissa reminded gently, tugging on a few curls.

Hermione sat down on the small pouf in front of Parvati's bed and submitted her head to the trauma she would inflict. Thankfully, instead of trying to tame her mane into an updo, Parvati and Narcissa combed a specially formulated serum through her curls, letting them flutter and rest over her shoulders. Her eyebrows were systematically attacked next, requiring a high strength cooling charm.

The metaphorical clock struck a quarter to seven as Severus rapped gently on the bedroom door.

"I'm almost ready," called Hermione, her eyes closed with Parvati apply a thin line of dark eyeliner.

He coughed conspicuously, "The portkey is set to leave soon."

"She knows," Narcissa replied as she finished the cushioning charms on Hermione's high heeled shoes.

A bit more gently, Hermione called, "I'll be out in only a second."

She smiled, letting Narcissa help her with the catch on her bracelet. The simple line of round diamonds, courtesy of said Malfoy matriarch, were cool and dazzling against her pale wrist. "Thanks for letting me wear this."

"Of course," anwered Narcissa. "You simply must look your best for meeting the president."

Hermione smiled at Narcissa's blase reply. "Severus is waiting," she directed to Parvati. "Thank you for helping me, but I really must go now."

Parvati smiled almost predatorally, her even, preternaturally white teeth gleaming in the dusky light, "Any time."

She opened the door, shot a smile back at Narcissa and started down the hallway. Her footsteps were cushioned in the thick pile of the rug and left little round divots from her spiked heels. At the top of the stairs, she peeked around the corner and tried to get a glimpse of her date for the night.

He stood rather impatiently at the door, a dark cloak draped over his arm in neat folds. Before he could notice her presence, she snuck another look. Oh, man was he in full bloom tonight... Black, slim cut trousers pooled only slightly over unassuming black boots and Severus wore a black brocaded waistcoat.

The rustle of Hermione's taffeta skirts drew his attention upward and she started down the stairs carefully.

"Your hair," she whispered, coming to the bottom of the stairs.

Severus smiled, a quick quirk of his thin lips. "I lengthened it."

Her fingertips lit against the smooth, neat coif, pulled back tightly at the nape of his neck. "You look more like you used to. Not that I mind, of course... I did tell you that I'd had a crush on you for years."

Inclining his head in affirmation, Severus ran the back of his hand over the smooth tautness of Hermione's stomach in her dress. The neck dipped low across her strapless bodice and pulled tight about her thin waist with a length of black fabric. Following the simple lines of the bodice, the skirt draped down gracefully and bustled slightly in the back.

"You look lovely," he whispered into the side of her neck, placing a gentle kiss to chase his words.

Hermione giggled nervously, "You said you liked my black dress... from Slughorn's Christmas party."

"I realize, Pearl, that I find you intoxicating in whatever happens to be on or off your boy."

A warm rush filled Hermione's lungs and she leaned into his mouth, letting him explore and taste and hope that he didn't realize that they were standing in the foyer of the Order's interim Headquarters.

At length, he pulled away raggedly, fussing with his sienna colored cravat and messing up the simple, neat knot. "Portkey is about to activate."

Severus held out the engraved parchment invitation which had only just begun to glow violet.

"Yes... can't keep the American Government waiting so that we can have a-" Hermione's words were abruptly cut off as they were hooked from inside and bodily wailed through the space-time continuum.

As their knees slammed against a deeply padded surface, Severus looked up first and quietly retorted, "What would we be keeping them waiting for?"

Hermione glared, but gratefully accepted his gentlemanly hand up from the cushioned ground. "Are you ready for this?"

"As ever," he replied stiffly, offering Hermione one frock coat encased arm.

As they left the transportation room, a small, unassuming gentleman set up with a station in the hall requested their wands for weighing. Grudgingly, they handed them over.

"Next time someone goes to England, we'll have to make sure that they pick up another shipment of replacement wands from our source," Hermione muttered darkly.

Severus considered, "I'd only just gotten used to this one."

"I know," replied Hermione. "I should have thought to bring a spare with me."

They filtered into the atrium and joined the throng of people entering a room to the far end of the building. The tall, tray ceiling was illuminated a pale yellow, showing off the beautiful scenic frescoes. Hermione clung almost indecently to Severus' arm as they moved through the atrium and to the double doors. A queue formed and one by one, the couples were announced as they entered the ball room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay DuValle," the announcer called, no need for an amplification charm.

Another gentleman was taking down the names of the guests as they queued, "Might I have your names?"

Severus spoke quickly, cutting off Hermione's sudden mounting fears, "Mr. Parrish MacNeal and his wife Mrs. Nicola Ravensdale."

A curt nod and a thank-you and he was to the next couple.

"Madame President will know it is us," he assured, stroking his hand down her bare shoulder and to her exposed star tattoos. "She will seek us out. Until then, we are humble scholars; you translation charms and myself as a curse breaker."

Hermione nodded, her heart beating quick in her throat as they were presented.

An attendant appeared to their right, almost as if by magic, and inquired, "Would you please follow me to your table?"

The couple exchanged looks quickly, then acquiesced. Hermione and Severus wound around and through the scattered round tables to a dias at the end of the ball room, behind it a great wall of glass which looked out upon a wide terrace and the expanse of a city far below it. They were seated on comfortable gold and champagne colored striped chairs with a good vantage of the whole room. In front of their plates were only blank place cards, but to Hermione's right was an engraved card with the name of the Madame President.

Hermione quickly jabbed Severus in the side with her fingers, pointing at the card at the next place setting. He remained saturnine and silent, but wrapped his hand around hers to give it a squeeze. To his right was a tall, portly gentleman with whom Severus began a conversation and silently encouraged Hermione to engage a comely woman across the table in her own manner.

Thankfully, they had been one of the last people to arrive so within moments of their seating a harp player began to strum to signal that the Madame President would be entering the room. Taking a cue from the rest of the room, Hermione stood up as she entered.

"Madame President Hillary Rodham Clinton," bellowed the announcer. Madame President smiled kindly at the applause her entry granted. Dressed in midnight blue, she cut a swath down the center aisle and to the head table. A gentleman with a shock of white hair on the other side of Madame President's vacant seat pulled it out for her to sit, thus ending the standing ovation.

"Rather tedious, if I might say," she intimated to Hermione. "All this pomp and circumstance."

Hermione swallowed, then said, "One might imagine."

"But you're British," Madame President chided jovially, "and if there's anything I know about the British is that the whole country lives on soccer, ale and pomp."

"One must always make allowances for respect where respect is due, Madame President," Severus interjected, calmly unfolding his linen napkin and draping it across his lap.

Madame President's companion with the white hair guffawed, "Only too right."

"And who am I making the acquaintance of?" asked the President, holding out her right hand for Hermione to shake.

"Nicola Ravensdale, ma'am," replied Hermione with a little bob of her head. "And this is my husband, Parrish MacNeal."

They shook hands, Madame President's eyes sweeping over the twenty some stars branded on Hermione's arm.

"Bill," she said, turning to her companion, "These are our friends from Britain. They're staying in the Midwest at the moment, am I right?"

Severus nodded, "Cincinnati."

"Been there more than I'd like to," rejoined Bill. "Boring place."

Madame President chided, "Cincinnati got you elected in '92."

"Doesn't mean I want to retire there," grumbled Bill, opening his menu.

"But you are settling in well?" questioned the President, glancing to Hermione as she joined her husband in browsing the menu.

Hermione nodded, catching onto the blatant subterfuge in the air. "We are, but before long we expect to be back in Britain."

"Roast beef," Madame Clinton pronounced. "I expect that following dinner and the opening dances, that we could possibly slip away undetected for more... frank conversation."

As way of answering, Hermione ordered the shrimp.

Severus gave a brief, side long look at the President and ordered the beef as well.

When they had sufficiently settled into their meals, Madame President addressed the Potions Master, "I take it you are an expert in the field of the detection and disablement of the Dark Arts via potions?"

He inclined his head and finished chewing. Swallowing, he replied, "I am. I have worked for many years in the field. Since before you were in office, Madame President."

"I find that we are having trouble with a few relics of a dark nature from our revolution," she intimated. "I would wonder after you were re-settled in Britain if you would consent to returning and helping my team disable them."

Hermione gaped a little, pressing her fingers to Severus' thigh. He seemed not to notice but instead answered thoughtfully, "Madame President does me a great honor. But I regret at this time, my presence is needed in England."

"Of course," the blonde woman conceded. "You will require time to re-settle. After that, though, your presence in the United States would be appreciated."

Growing tired of the garbled political talk that Severus and Madame Clinton were engaging in, Hermione asserted, "Perhaps if we could utilise the full power of the United States' _intelligensia _in our current endeavor, he would be much more willing to return the favor."

A bit of a sparkle graced the President's eyes and she replied, "The United States will always help a colleague in need."

"These artifacts," inquired Severus, "might I ask of their nature?"

Madame President's husband spoke up, "We're affected by a malicious spirit, one of a man by the name of Benedict Arnold. He has taken the lives of countless troops over the years, his last victim being a Corporal on leave from Afganistan."

"We have heard of your prowess with the eradication of the Dark Arts even here, Professor," continued Madame Clinton.

He nodded, sending a look to Hermione. "How long would the assignment take, in the best estimation of your team currently handling it?"

"The head of our team personally requested you. By their estimate, it would take one of your brewing skill level four to six weeks to complete," she replied. "I cannot impress on you the importance of the work I require."

"I believe I am well aware," answered Severus, ending the subject and spearing a roasted potato.

Hermione and Severus turned then to speak to the rest of the table and enjoy their meal as a string octet began to start their playing for the evening. As the sounds of Handel filled the ball room, people finished their meals and began lingering over their coffee. In Severus' hand was a demitasse of strong black espresso, which he sipped complacently, if not happily, as Hermione indulged in a chocolate mousse in a thin dark chocolate cup.

After several songs, the President's husband stood and offered his hand to his wife. She smiled prettily and took his hand, a certain youth coming over the politician. Her midnight blue gown sparkled in the light of the ball room and from the city lights out beyond the terrace. They shared a comfortable, unpretentious dance to the general applause of the room.

"I don't know how to do this," Hermione whispered frantically, gesturing at the couples that were filling the floor.

Severus' dour expression lightened momentarily, "Nor I. Together we shall make a shambles. But we shall do it with such authority that everyone will stare at us to learn the step."

She stifled a laugh, but took his hand when offered. Her skirt pooled on the floor behind her a few inches and the fabric rustled beautifully over the marble floors. With Severus' arm holding her up, they descended the dais to take their place among the swirling, dancing couples.

Enchanted, a beautiful Saint-Saens piece began to play and into Severus' arms she was drawn. Whether it was the feel of his warm, spare chest pulled to hers or his hand grasping posessively at the small of her back, Hermione know that in this moment- different than any other moment she had experienced with him- that she was irrevocably lost.

She knew she loved him; but that was easy. Loving is the easy part, she realized as she let him propel her around the floor. Hermione had loved before. She loved Harry, platonically at least. Even Ron she had loved, at least enough to sleep with him and date him. But that didn't mean she wanted to marry any of them.

Severus, though...

Her thoughts were swept away by the increasing complexity of the dance.


End file.
